Page 121 - of-human-bondage-

He was a London boy, with a loutish air, a heavy fellow with
the beginnings of a moustache on his lip and bushy eye-
brows that joined one another across the bridge of his nose.
He had soft hands and manners too suave for his years. He
spoke with the suspicion of a cockney accent. He was one
of those boys who are too slack to play games, and he ex-
ercised great ingenuity in making excuses to avoid such
as were compulsory. He was regarded by boys and mas-
ters with a vague dislike, and it was from arrogance that
Philip now sought his society. Sharp in a couple of terms
was going to Germany for a year. He hated school, which
he looked upon as an indignity to be endured till he was old
enough to go out into the world. London was all he cared
for, and he had many stories to tell of his doings there dur-
ing the holidays. From his conversation—he spoke in a soft,
deep-toned voice—there emerged the vague rumour of the
London streets by night. Philip listened to him at once fas-
cinated and repelled. With his vivid fancy he seemed to see
the surging throng round the pit-door of theatres, and the
glitter of cheap restaurants, bars where men, half drunk, sat
on high stools talking with barmaids; and under the street
lamps the mysterious passing of dark crowds bent upon
pleasure. Sharp lent him cheap novels from Holywell Row,
which Philip read in his cubicle with a sort of wonderful
fear.
Once Rose tried to effect a reconciliation. He was a good-
natured fellow, who did not like having enemies.
‘I say, Carey, why are you being such a silly ass? It doesn’t
do you any good cutting me and all that.’

1 0 Of Human Bondage