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not wait to communicate with the mistress of the board-
ing-house.
‘We’ll leave the luggage at the station and go to the house
and see if they’ve got rooms, and if they have we can just
send an outside porter for our traps.’
‘You can please yourself,’ said Mildred stiffly.
She did not like being reproached, and, retiring huffi-
ly into a haughty silence, she sat by listlessly while Philip
made the preparations for their departure. The little flat was
hot and stuffy under the August sun, and from the road
beat up a malodorous sultriness. As he lay in his bed in the
small ward with its red, distempered walls he had longed
for fresh air and the splashing of the sea against his breast.
He felt he would go mad if he had to spend another night in
London. Mildred recovered her good temper when she saw
the streets of Brighton crowded with people making holi-
day, and they were both in high spirits as they drove out to
Kemp Town. Philip stroked the baby’s cheek.
‘We shall get a very different colour into them when we’ve
been down here a few days,’ he said, smiling.
They arrived at the boarding-house and dismissed the cab.
An untidy maid opened the door and, when Philip asked
if they had rooms, said she would inquire. She fetched her
mistress. A middle-aged woman, stout and business-like,
came downstairs, gave them the scrutinising glance of her
profession, and asked what accommodation they required.
‘Two single rooms, and if you’ve got such a thing we’d
rather like a cot in one of them.’
‘I’m afraid I haven’t got that. I’ve got one nice large dou-