Page 802 - of-human-bondage-

ature had long since vanished; but habit had taken its place;
and when Hayward was in London they saw one another
once or twice a week. He still talked about books with a
delicate appreciation. Philip was not yet tolerant, and some-
times Hayward’s conversation irritated him. He no longer
believed implicitly that nothing in the world was of con-
sequence but art. He resented Hayward’s contempt for
action and success. Philip, stirring his punch, thought of
his early friendship and his ardent expectation that Hay-
ward would do great things; it was long since he had lost all
such illusions, and he knew now that Hayward would never
do anything but talk. He found his three hundred a year
more difficult to live on now that he was thirty-five than he
had when he was a young man; and his clothes, though still
made by a good tailor, were worn a good deal longer than at
one time he would have thought possible. He was too stout
and no artful arrangement of his fair hair could conceal the
fact that he was bald. His blue eyes were dull and pale. It
was not hard to guess that he drank too much.
‘What on earth made you think of going out to the Cape?’
asked Philip.
‘Oh, I don’t know, I thought I ought to.’
Philip was silent. He felt rather silly. He understood that
Hayward was being driven by an uneasiness in his soul
which he could not account for. Some power within him
made it seem necessary to go and fight for his country. It
was strange, since he considered patriotism no more than
a prejudice, and, flattering himself on his cosmopolitan-
ism, he had looked upon England as a place of exile. His

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