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for her years. He shuddered; he felt suddenly that he never
wanted to see her again; he could not bear the thought of
kissing her. He was horrified with himself. Was that love?
He took as long as he could over dressing in order to put
back the moment of seeing her, and when at last he went
into the dining-room it was with a sinking heart. Prayers
were over, and they were sitting down at breakfast.
‘Lazybones,’ Miss Wilkinson cried gaily.
He looked at her and gave a little gasp of relief. She was
sitting with her back to the window. She was really quite
nice. He wondered why he had thought such things about
her. His self-satisfaction returned to him.
He was taken aback by the change in her. She told him in
a voice thrilling with emotion immediately after breakfast
that she loved him; and when a little later they went into the
drawing-room for his singing lesson and she sat down on
the music-stool she put up her face in the middle of a scale
and said:
‘Embrasse-moi.’
When he bent down she flung her arms round his neck.
It was slightly uncomfortable, for she held him in such a po-
sition that he felt rather choked.
‘Ah, je t’aime. Je t’aime. Je t’aime,’ she cried, with her ex-
travagantly French accent.
Philip wished she would speak English.
‘I say, I don’t know if it’s struck you that the gardener’s
quite likely to pass the window any minute.’
‘Ah, je m’en fiche du jardinier. Je m’en refiche, et je m’en
contrefiche.’

0 Of Human Bondage