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suddenly to Philip.
‘Yes.’
Philip felt the eyes of his fellow-students rest on him, and
he cursed himself because he could not help blushing. He
felt the sweat start up in the palms of his hands. The sur-
geon spoke with the fluency due to long practice and with
the admirable perspicacity which distinguished him. He
was tremendously interested in his profession. But Philip
did not listen. He was only wishing that the fellow would
get done quickly. Suddenly he realised that Jacobs was ad-
dressing him.
‘You don’t mind taking off your sock for a moment, Car-
ey?’
Philip felt a shudder pass through him. He had an im-
pulse to tell the surgeon to go to hell, but he had not the
courage to make a scene. He feared his brutal ridicule. He
forced himself to appear indifferent.
‘Not a bit,’ he said.
He sat down and unlaced his boot. His fingers were
trembling and he thought he should never untie the knot.
He remembered how they had forced him at school to show
his foot, and the misery which had eaten into his soul.
‘He keeps his feet nice and clean, doesn’t he?’ said Jacobs,
in his rasping, cockney voice.
The attendant students giggled. Philip noticed that the
boy whom they were examining looked down at his foot
with eager curiosity. Jacobs took the foot in his hands and
said:
‘Yes, that’s what I thought. I see you’ve had an operation.