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‘Look at it, feel it, it’s like silk. What a miracle of grace!
And in five years the house-breaker will sell it for firewood.’
He insisted on taking Philip into a room on the first floor,
where a man in shirt sleeves, a blousy woman, and three
children were having their Sunday dinner.
‘I’ve just brought this gentleman in to show him your
ceiling. Did you ever see anything so wonderful? How are
you, Mrs. Hodgson? This is Mr. Carey, who looked after me
when I was in the hospital.’
‘Come in, sir,’ said the man. ‘Any friend of Mr. Athelny’s
is welcome. Mr. Athelny shows the ceiling to all his friends.
And it don’t matter what we’re doing, if we’re in bed or if I’m
‘aving a wash, in ‘e comes.’
Philip could see that they looked upon Athelny as a little
queer; but they liked him none the less and they listened
open-mouthed while he discoursed with his impetuous flu-
ency on the beauty of the seventeenth-century ceiling.
‘What a crime to pull this down, eh, Hodgson? You’re an
influential citizen, why don’t you write to the papers and
protest?’
The man in shirt sleeves gave a laugh and said to Philip:
‘Mr. Athelny will ‘ave his little joke. They do say these
‘ouses are that insanitory, it’s not safe to live in them.’
‘Sanitation be damned, give me art,’ cried Athelny. ‘I’ve
got nine children and they thrive on bad drains. No, no, I’m
not going to take any risk. None of your new-fangled no-
tions for me! When I move from here I’m going to make
sure the drains are bad before I take anything.’
There was a knock at the door, and a little fair-haired girl

Of Human Bondage