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‘I say, I’m awfully sorry. What are you doing?’
‘I’m a shop-walker.’
The words choked Philip, but he was determined not to
shirk the truth. He kept his eyes on Lawson and saw his em-
barrassment. Philip smiled savagely.
‘If you went into Lynn and Sedley, and made your way
into the ‘made robes’ department, you would see me in a
frock coat, walking about with a degage air and directing
ladies who want to buy petticoats or stockings. First to the
right, madam, and second on the left.’
Lawson, seeing that Philip was making a jest of it,
laughed awkwardly. He did not know what to say. The pic-
ture that Philip called up horrified him, but he was afraid to
show his sympathy.
‘That’s a bit of a change for you,’ he said.
His words seemed absurd to him, and immediately he
wished he had not said them. Philip flushed darkly.
‘A bit,’ he said. ‘By the way, I owe you five bob.’
He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out some sil-
ver.
‘Oh, it doesn’t matter. I’d forgotten all about it.’
‘Go on, take it.’
Lawson received the money silently. They stood in the
middle of the pavement, and people jostled them as they
passed. There was a sardonic twinkle in Philip’s eyes, which
made the painter intensely uncomfortable, and he could
not tell that Philip’s heart was heavy with despair. Lawson
wanted dreadfully to do something, but he did not know
what to do.