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but they wounded Philip, and in self-defence he assumed an
attitude of superiority which he did not feel.
‘Had a bath this morning?’ Thompson said when Phil-
ip came to the office late, for his early punctuality had not
lasted.
‘Yes, haven’t you?’
‘No, I’m not a gentleman, I’m only a clerk. I have a bath
on Saturday night.’
‘I suppose that’s why you’re more than usually disagree-
able on Monday.’
‘Will you condescend to do a few sums in simple addition
today? I’m afraid it’s asking a great deal from a gentleman
who knows Latin and Greek.’
‘Your attempts at sarcasm are not very happy.’
But Philip could not conceal from himself that the other
clerks, ill-paid and uncouth, were more useful than himself.
Once or twice Mr. Goodworthy grew impatient with him.
‘You really ought to be able to do better than this by now,’
he said. ‘You’re not even as smart as the office-boy.’
Philip listened sulkily. He did not like being blamed,
and it humiliated him, when, having been given accounts
to make fair copies of, Mr. Goodworthy was not satisfied
and gave them to another clerk to do. At first the work had
been tolerable from its novelty, but now it grew irksome; and
when he discovered that he had no aptitude for it, he began
to hate it. Often, when he should have been doing something
that was given him, he wasted his time drawing little pic-
tures on the office note-paper. He made sketches of Watson
in every conceivable attitude, and Watson was impressed by