Page 128 - of-human-bondage-

He felt himself slipping. He was powerless against the
weakness that seemed to well up in him; it was like the wa-
ter that rises up in an empty bottle held over a full basin;
and he set his teeth, saying the words over and over to him-
self.
‘I won’t. I won’t. I won’t.’
At last Mr. Perkins put his hand on Philip’s shoulder.
‘I don’t want to influence you,’ he said. ‘You must decide
for yourself. Pray to Almighty God for help and guidance.’
When Philip came out of the headmaster’s house there
was a light rain falling. He went under the archway that led
to the precincts, there was not a soul there, and the rooks
were silent in the elms. He walked round slowly. He felt hot,
and the rain did him good. He thought over all that Mr.
Perkins had said, calmly now that he was withdrawn from
the fervour of his personality, and he was thankful he had
not given way.
In the darkness he could but vaguely see the great mass
of the Cathedral: he hated it now because of the irksomeness
of the long services which he was forced to attend. The an-
them was interminable, and you had to stand drearily while
it was being sung; you could not hear the droning sermon,
and your body twitched because you had to sit still when
you wanted to move about. Then philip thought of the two
services every Sunday at Blackstable. The church was bare
and cold, and there was a smell all about one of pomade and
starched clothes. The curate preached once and his uncle
preached once. As he grew up he had learned to know his
uncle; Philip was downright and intolerant, and he could

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