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‘What at?’
Philip was not prepared for the question, since in fact he
had not made up his mind. He had thought of a dozen call-
ings.
‘The most suitable thing you could do is to enter your fa-
ther’s profession and become a doctor.’
‘Oddly enough that is precisely what I intend.’
He had thought of doctoring among other things, chiefly
because it was an occupation which seemed to give a good
deal of personal freedom, and his experience of life in an
office had made him determine never to have anything
more to do with one; his answer to the Vicar slipped out al-
most unawares, because it was in the nature of a repartee.
It amused him to make up his mind in that accidental way,
and he resolved then and there to enter his father’s old hos-
pital in the autumn.
‘Then your two years in Paris may be regarded as so much
wasted time?’
‘I don’t know about that. I had a very jolly two years, and
I learned one or two useful things.’
‘What?’
Philip reflected for an instant, and his answer was not de-
void of a gentle desire to annoy.
‘I learned to look at hands, which I’d never looked at be-
fore. And instead of just looking at houses and trees I learned
to look at houses and trees against the sky. And I learned
also that shadows are not black but coloured.’
‘I suppose you think you’re very clever. I think your flip-
pancy is quite inane.’

1 Of Human Bondage