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and when he told me I gave him a piece of my mind. And
then I didn’t see him for months, and when he came to the
shop again and asked me I don’t know what came over me. I
felt as if I couldn’t help it. I had to go with him.’
‘Were you in love with him?’
‘I don’t know. I couldn’t hardly help laughing at the
things he said. And there was something about him—he
said I’d never regret it, he promised to give me seven pounds
a week—he said he was earning fifteen, and it was all a lie,
he wasn’t. And then I was sick of going to the shop every
morning, and I wasn’t getting on very well with my aunt;
she wanted to treat me as a servant instead of a relation, said
I ought to do my own room, and if I didn’t do it nobody was
going to do it for me. Oh, I wish I hadn’t. But when he came
to the shop and asked me I felt I couldn’t help it.’
Philip moved away from her. He sat down at the table
and buried his face in his hands. He felt dreadfully humili-
ated.
‘You’re not angry with me, Philip?’ she asked piteously.
‘No,’ he answered, looking up but away from her, ‘only
I’m awfully hurt.’
‘Why?’
‘You see, I was so dreadfully in love with you. I did every-
thing I could to make you care for me. I thought you were
incapable of loving anyone. It’s so horrible to know that you
were willing to sacrifice everything for that bounder. I won-
der what you saw in him.’
‘I’m awfully sorry, Philip. I regretted it bitterly afterwards,
I promise you that.’