Page 380 - of-human-bondage-

true that she had loved him; he thought of the emaciated
body, in the brown dress, hanging from the nail in the ceil-
ing; and he shuddered. But if she had cared for him why did
she not let him help her? He would so gladly have done all
he could. He felt remorseful because he had refused to see
that she looked upon him with any particular feeling, and
now these words in her letter were infinitely pathetic: I can’t
bear the thought that anyone else should touch me. She had
died of starvation.
Philip found at length a letter signed: your loving brother,
Albert. it was two or three weeks old, dated from some road
in Surbiton, and refused a loan of five pounds. The writer
had his wife and family to think of, he didn’t feel justified in
lending money, and his advice was that Fanny should come
back to London and try to get a situation. Philip telegraphed
to Albert Price, and in a little while an answer came:
‘Deeply distressed. Very awkward to leave my business.
Is presence essential. Price.’
Philip wired a succinct affirmative, and next morning a
stranger presented himself at the studio.
‘My name’s Price,’ he said, when Philip opened the door.
He was a commonish man in black with a band round
his bowler hat; he had something of Fanny’s clumsy look; he
wore a stubbly moustache, and had a cockney accent. Philip
asked him to come in. He cast sidelong glances round the
studio while Philip gave him details of the accident and told
him what he had done.
‘I needn’t see her, need I?’ asked Albert Price. ‘My nerves
aren’t very strong, and it takes very little to upset me.’