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him her hand, and he held it.
‘I say, I do so awfully want to call you Mildred.’
‘You may if you like, I don’t care.’
‘And you’ll call me Philip, won’t you?’
‘I will if I can think of it. It seems more natural to call
you Mr. Carey.’
He drew her slightly towards him, but she leaned back.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Won’t you kiss me good-night?’ he whispered.
‘Impudence!’ she said.
She snatched away her hand and hurried towards her
house.
Philip bought tickets for Saturday night. It was not one of
the days on which she got off early and therefore she would
have no time to go home and change; but she meant to
bring a frock up with her in the morning and hurry into her
clothes at the shop. If the manageress was in a good temper
she would let her go at seven. Philip had agreed to wait out-
side from a quarter past seven onwards. He looked forward
to the occasion with painful eagerness, for in the cab on the
way from the theatre to the station he thought she would let
him kiss her. The vehicle gave every facility for a man to put
his arm round a girl’s waist (an advantage which the han-
som had over the taxi of the present day), and the delight of
that was worth the cost of the evening’s entertainment.
But on Saturday afternoon when he went in to have tea,
in order to confirm the arrangements, he met the man with
the fair moustache coming out of the shop. He knew by
now that he was called Miller. He was a naturalized Ger-

Of Human Bondage