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that it seemed natural enough for them to admire one
another. He did not care if Griffiths absorbed Mildred’s at-
tention, he would have her to himself during the evening:
he had something of the attitude of a loving husband, con-
fident in his wife’s affection, who looks on with amusement
while she flirts harmlessly with a stranger. But at half past
seven he looked at his watch and said:
‘It’s about time we went out to dinner, Mildred.’
There was a moment’s pause, and Griffiths seemed to be
considering.
‘Well, I’ll be getting along,’ he said at last. ‘I didn’t know
it was so late.’
‘Are you doing anything tonight?’ asked Mildred.
‘No.’
There was another silence. Philip felt slightly irritated.
‘I’ll just go and have a wash,’ he said, and to Mildred he
added: ‘Would you like to wash your hands?’
She did not answer him.
‘Why don’t you come and dine with us?’ she said to
Griffiths.
He looked at Philip and saw him staring at him som-
brely.
‘I dined with you last night,’ he laughed. ‘I should be in
the way.’
‘Oh, that doesn’t matter,’ insisted Mildred. ‘Make him
come, Philip. He won’t be in the way, will he?’
‘Let him come by all means if he’d like to.’
‘All right, then,’ said Griffiths promptly. ‘I’ll just go up-
stairs and tidy myself.’

0 Of Human Bondage