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afterwards for a bit when I’ve washed them.’
‘My dear, if I’d had the naming of you I should have
called you Maria of the Soapsuds. You’re always torturing
these wretched brats with soap.’
‘You go first, Mr. Carey, or I shall never get him to sit
down and eat his dinner.’
Athelny and Philip installed themselves in the great
monkish chairs, and Sally brought them in two plates of
beef, Yorkshire pudding, baked potatoes, and cabbage.
Athelny took sixpence out of his pocket and sent her for a
jug of beer.
‘I hope you didn’t have the table laid here on my account,’
said Philip. ‘I should have been quite happy to eat with the
children.’
‘Oh no, I always have my meals by myself. I like these an-
tique customs. I don’t think that women ought to sit down
at table with men. It ruins conversation and I’m sure it’s
very bad for them. It puts ideas in their heads, and women
are never at ease with themselves when they have ideas.’
Both host and guest ate with a hearty appetite.
‘Did you ever taste such Yorkshire pudding? No one can
make it like my wife. That’s the advantage of not marrying
a lady. You noticed she wasn’t a lady, didn’t you?’
It was an awkward question, and Philip did not know
how to answer it.
‘I never thought about it,’ he said lamely.
Athelny laughed. He had a peculiarly joyous laugh.
‘No, she’s not a lady, nor anything like it. Her father was
a farmer, and she’s never bothered about aitches in her life.

0 Of Human Bondage