Page 742 - of-human-bondage-

sixteen.
‘I’m sure Lawson would love that green skin of yours,’
said Philip. ‘He’d say it was so paintable, but I’m terribly
matter of fact nowadays, and I shan’t be happy till you’re as
pink and white as a milkmaid.’
‘I feel better already.’
After a frugal supper Philip filled his pouch with tobac-
co and put on his hat. It was on Tuesdays that he generally
went to the tavern in Beak Street, and he was glad that this
day came so soon after Mildred’s arrival, for he wanted to
make his relations with her perfectly clear.
‘Are you going out?’ she said.
‘Yes, on Tuesdays I give myself a night off. I shall see you
tomorrow. Good-night.’
Philip always went to the tavern with a sense of pleasure.
Macalister, the philosophic stockbroker, was generally there
and glad to argue upon any subject under the sun; Hayward
came regularly when he was in London; and though he and
Macalister disliked one another they continued out of habit
to meet on that one evening in the week. Macalister thought
Hayward a poor creature, and sneered at his delicacies of
sentiment: he asked satirically about Hayward’s literary
work and received with scornful smiles his vague sugges-
tions of future masterpieces; their arguments were often
heated; but the punch was good, and they were both fond of
it; towards the end of the evening they generally composed
their differences and thought each other capital fellows.
This evening Philip found them both there, and Lawson
also; Lawson came more seldom now that he was beginning

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