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life which affected everyone who knew him; it was almost
as sensible as bodily warmth. Mildred was more lively than
Philip had ever known her, and he was delighted to see that
his little party was a success. She was amusing herself enor-
mously. She laughed louder and louder. She quite forgot the
genteel reserve which had become second nature to her.
Presently Griffiths said:
‘I say, it’s dreadfully difficult for me to call you Mrs. Mill-
er. Philip never calls you anything but Mildred.’
‘I daresay she won’t scratch your eyes out if you call her
that too,’ laughed Philip.
‘Then she must call me Harry.’
Philip sat silent while they chattered away and thought
how good it was to see people happy. Now and then Griffiths
teased him a little, kindly, because he was always so seri-
ous.
‘I believe he’s quite fond of you, Philip,’ smiled Mildred.
‘He isn’t a bad old thing,’ answered Griffiths, and taking
Philip’s hand he shook it gaily.
It seemed an added charm in Griffiths that he liked Phil-
ip. They were all sober people, and the wine they had drunk
went to their heads. Griffiths became more talkative and so
boisterous that Philip, amused, had to beg him to be quiet.
He had a gift for story-telling, and his adventures lost noth-
ing of their romance and their laughter in his narration. He
played in all of them a gallant, humorous part. Mildred, her
eyes shining with excitement, urged him on. He poured
out anecdote after anecdote. When the lights began to be
turned out she was astonished.

Of Human Bondage