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self to use dearest or darling, and he hated to address her
as Emily, so finally he began with the word dear. It looked
odd, standing by itself, and rather silly, but he made it do.
It was the first love letter he had ever written, and he was
conscious of its tameness; he felt that he should say all sorts
of vehement things, how he thought of her every minute of
the day and how he longed to kiss her beautiful hands and
how he trembled at the thought of her red lips, but some in-
explicable modesty prevented him; and instead he told her
of his new rooms and his office. The answer came by return
of post, angry, heart-broken, reproachful: how could he be
so cold? Did he not know that she hung on his letters? She
had given him all that a woman could give, and this was
her reward. Was he tired of her already? Then, because he
did not reply for several days, Miss Wilkinson bombarded
him with letters. She could not bear his unkindness, she
waited for the post, and it never brought her his letter, she
cried herself to sleep night after night, she was looking so
ill that everyone remarked on it: if he did not love her why
did he not say so? She added that she could not live without
him, and the only thing was for her to commit suicide. She
told him he was cold and selfish and ungrateful. It was all in
French, and Philip knew that she wrote in that language to
show off, but he was worried all the same. He did not want
to make her unhappy. In a little while she wrote that she
could not bear the separation any longer, she would arrange
to come over to London for Christmas. Philip wrote back
that he would like nothing better, only he had already an
engagement to spend Christmas with friends in the country,

Of Human Bondage