Page 693 - of-human-bondage-

‘I write for all the papers. You cannot open a paper with-
out seeing some of my writing.’ There was one by the side
of the bed and reaching for it he pointed out an advertise-
ment. In large letters was the name of a firm well-known to
Philip, Lynn and Sedley, Regent Street, London; and below,
in type smaller but still of some magnitude, was the dog-
matic statement: Procrastination is the Thief of Time. Then
a question, startling because of its reasonableness: Why not
order today? There was a repetition, in large letters, like the
hammering of conscience on a murderer’s heart: Why not?
Then, boldly: Thousands of pairs of gloves from the lead-
ing markets of the world at astounding prices. Thousands
of pairs of stockings from the most reliable manufacturers
of the universe at sensational reductions. Finally the ques-
tion recurred, but flung now like a challenging gauntlet in
the lists: Why not order today?
‘I’m the press representative of Lynn and Sedley.’ He gave
a little wave of his beautiful hand. ‘To what base uses...’
Philip went on asking the regulation questions, some a
mere matter of routine, others artfully devised to lead the
patient to discover things which he might be expected to
desire to conceal.
‘Have you ever lived abroad?’ asked Philip.
‘I was in Spain for eleven years.’
‘What were you doing there?’
‘I was secretary of the English water company at Toledo.’
Philip remembered that Clutton had spent some months
in Toledo, and the journalist’s answer made him look at
him with more interest; but he felt it would be improper to

Of Human Bondage