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‘Have you no sense of humour at all, Mildred?’ he asked
frigidly.
‘I don’t know what sense of humour’s got to do with it.
I’ve got a good mind to take them down myself. If you want
to know what I think about them, I think they’re disgust-
ing.’
‘I don’t want to know what you think about them, and I
forbid you to touch them.’
When Mildred was cross with him she punished him
through the baby. The little girl was as fond of Philip as he
was of her, and it was her great pleasure every morning to
crawl into his room (she was getting on for two now and
could walk pretty well), and be taken up into his bed. When
Mildred stopped this the poor child would cry bitterly. To
Philip’s remonstrances she replied:
‘I don’t want her to get into habits.’
And if then he said anything more she said:
‘It’s nothing to do with you what I do with my child. To
hear you talk one would think you was her father. I’m her
mother, and I ought to know what’s good for her, oughtn’t
I?’
Philip was exasperated by Mildred’s stupidity; but he
was so indifferent to her now that it was only at times she
made him angry. He grew used to having her about. Christ-
mas came, and with it a couple of days holiday for Philip.
He brought some holly in and decorated the flat, and on
Christmas Day he gave small presents to Mildred and the
baby. There were only two of them so they could not have a
turkey, but Mildred roasted a chicken and boiled a Christ-