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Philip wanted to say something, but he was so shy he could
hardly bring himself to, and yet the time was passing and
the opportunity would be lost. It was best to get at the truth
at once. He forced himself to speak.
‘Are you in love with Mildred?’ he asked suddenly.
‘I?’ Griffiths laughed. ‘Is that what you’ve been so funny
about this evening? Of course not, my dear old man.’
He tried to slip his hand through Philip’s arm, but Philip
drew himself away. He knew Griffiths was lying. He could
not bring himself to force Griffiths to tell him that he had
not been holding the girl’s hand. He suddenly felt very weak
and broken.
‘It doesn’t matter to you, Harry,’ he said. ‘You’ve got so
many women—don’t take her away from me. It means my
whole life. I’ve been so awfully wretched.’
His voice broke, and he could not prevent the sob that
was torn from him. He was horribly ashamed of himself.
‘My dear old boy, you know I wouldn’t do anything to
hurt you. I’m far too fond of you for that. I was only playing
the fool. If I’d known you were going to take it like that I’d
have been more careful.’
‘Is that true?’ asked Philip.
‘I don’t care a twopenny damn for her. I give you my
word of honour.’
Philip gave a sigh of relief. The cab stopped at their door.

Of Human Bondage