Page 239 - of-human-bondage-

and he stopped with a start when they creaked. He stood
outside Miss Wilkinson’s room and listened; he put his
hand on the knob of the door-handle. He waited. It seemed
to him that he waited for at least five minutes, trying to
make up his mind; and his hand trembled. He would will-
ingly have bolted, but he was afraid of the remorse which
he knew would seize him. It was like getting on the high-
est diving-board in a swimming-bath; it looked nothing
from below, but when you got up there and stared down at
the water your heart sank; and the only thing that forced
you to dive was the shame of coming down meekly by the
steps you had climbed up. Philip screwed up his courage.
He turned the handle softly and walked in. He seemed to
himself to be trembling like a leaf.
Miss Wilkinson was standing at the dressing-table with
her back to the door, and she turned round quickly when
she heard it open.
‘Oh, it’s you. What d’you want?’
She had taken off her skirt and blouse, and was standing
in her petticoat. It was short and only came down to the top
of her boots; the upper part of it was black, of some shiny
material, and there was a red flounce. She wore a camisole
of white calico with short arms. She looked grotesque. Phil-
ip’s heart sank as he stared at her; she had never seemed so
unattractive; but it was too late now. He closed the door be-
hind him and locked it.

Of Human Bondage