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at sea.
There was a boy called Luard between whom and Philip a
friendship had arisen, and one day, when they were playing
together in the school-room, Luard began to perform some
trick with an ebony pen-holder of Philip’s.
‘Don’t play the giddy ox,’ said Philip. ‘You’ll only break
it.’
‘I shan’t.’
But no sooner were the words out of the boy’s mouth
than the pen-holder snapped in two. Luard looked at Philip
with dismay.
‘Oh, I say, I’m awfully sorry.’
The tears rolled down Philip’s cheeks, but he did not an-
swer.
‘I say, what’s the matter?’ said Luard, with surprise. ‘I’ll
get you another one exactly the same.’
‘It’s not about the pen-holder I care,’ said Philip, in a
trembling voice, ‘only it was given me by my mater, just be-
fore she died.’
‘I say, I’m awfully sorry, Carey.’
‘It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t your fault.’
Philip took the two pieces of the pen-holder and looked
at them. He tried to restrain his sobs. He felt utterly miser-
able. And yet he could not tell why, for he knew quite well
that he had bought the pen-holder during his last holidays
at Blackstable for one and twopence. He did not know in
the least what had made him invent that pathetic story, but
he was quite as unhappy as though it had been true. The
pious atmosphere of the vicarage and the religious tone of

Of Human Bondage