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‘Did she cry?’
‘She began to, but I can’t stand women when they cry, so
I said she’d better hook it.’
Philip’s sense of humour was growing keener with ad-
vancing years.
‘And did she hook it?’ he asked smiling.
‘Well, there wasn’t anything else for her to do, was
there?’
Meanwhile the Christmas holidays approached. Mrs.
Carey had been ill all through November, and the doctor
suggested that she and the Vicar should go to Cornwall for
a couple of weeks round Christmas so that she should get
back her strength. The result was that Philip had nowhere
to go, and he spent Christmas Day in his lodgings. Under
Hayward’s influence he had persuaded himself that the fes-
tivities that attend this season were vulgar and barbaric,
and he made up his mind that he would take no notice of
the day; but when it came, the jollity of all around affected
him strangely. His landlady and her husband were spending
the day with a married daughter, and to save trouble Philip
announced that he would take his meals out. He went up to
London towards mid-day and ate a slice of turkey and some
Christmas pudding by himself at Gatti’s, and since he had
nothing to do afterwards went to Westminster Abbey for
the afternoon service. The streets were almost empty, and
the people who went along had a preoccupied look; they did
not saunter but walked with some definite goal in view, and
hardly anyone was alone. To Philip they all seemed happy.
He felt himself more solitary than he had ever done in his

Of Human Bondage