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Athelny kept on saying that he would speak to the man-
ager about Philip, it was absurd that no use should be made
of his talents; but he did nothing, and Philip soon came to
the conclusion that the press-agent was not a person of so
much importance in the manager’s eyes as in his own. Oc-
casionally he saw Athelny in the shop. His flamboyance was
extinguished; and in neat, commonplace, shabby clothes he
hurried, a subdued, unassuming little man, through the de-
partments as though anxious to escape notice.
‘When I think of how I’m wasted there,’ he said at home,
‘I’m almost tempted to give in my notice. There’s no scope
for a man like me. I’m stunted, I’m starved.’
Mrs. Athelny, quietly sewing, took no notice of his com-
plaints. Her mouth tightened a little.
‘It’s very hard to get jobs in these times. It’s regular and
it’s safe; I expect you’ll stay there as long as you give satis-
faction.’
It was evident that Athelny would. It was interesting to
see the ascendency which the uneducated woman, bound to
him by no legal tie, had acquired over the brilliant, unstable
man. Mrs. Athelny treated Philip with motherly kindness
now that he was in a different position, and he was touched
by her anxiety that he should make a good meal. It was the
solace of his life (and when he grew used to it, the monot-
ony of it was what chiefly appalled him) that he could go
every Sunday to that friendly house. It was a joy to sit in
the stately Spanish chairs and discuss all manner of things
with Athelny. Though his condition seemed so desperate
he never left him to go back to Harrington Street without

0 Of Human Bondage