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and the meal was very cheerful. After prayers she said she
would go straight to bed, and she kissed Mrs. Carey. Then
she turned to Philip.
‘Good gracious!’ she cried. ‘I was just going to kiss you
too.’
‘Why don’t you?’ he said.
She laughed and held out her hand. She distinctly pressed
his.
The following day there was not a cloud in the sky, and
the garden was sweet and fresh after the rain. Philip went
down to the beach to bathe and when he came home ate a
magnificent dinner. They were having a tennis party at the
vicarage in the afternoon and Miss Wilkinson put on her
best dress. She certainly knew how to wear her clothes, and
Philip could not help noticing how elegant she looked beside
the curate’s wife and the doctor’s married daughter. There
were two roses in her waistband. She sat in a garden chair by
the side of the lawn, holding a red parasol over herself, and
the light on her face was very becoming. Philip was fond of
tennis. He served well and as he ran clumsily played close to
the net: notwithstanding his club-foot he was quick, and it
was difficult to get a ball past him. He was pleased because
he won all his sets. At tea he lay down at Miss Wilkinson’s
feet, hot and panting.
‘Flannels suit you,’ she said. ‘You look very nice this af-
ternoon.’
He blushed with delight.
‘I can honestly return the compliment. You look perfect-
ly ravishing.’

0 Of Human Bondage