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could get no benefit from his own prescriptions. Philip was
puzzled and shocked by that eager cleaving to the earth. He
wondered what nameless horror was at the back of the old
man’s mind. He would have liked to probe into his soul so
that he might see in its nakedness the dreadful dismay of
the unknown which he suspected.
The fortnight passed quickly and Philip returned to Lon-
don. He passed a sweltering August behind his screen in
the costumes department, drawing in his shirt sleeves. The
assistants in relays went for their holidays. In the evening
Philip generally went into Hyde Park and listened to the
band. Growing more accustomed to his work it tired him
less, and his mind, recovering from its long stagnation,
sought for fresh activity. His whole desire now was set on
his uncle’s death. He kept on dreaming the same dream: a
telegram was handed to him one morning, early, which an-
nounced the Vicar’s sudden demise, and freedom was in
his grasp. When he awoke and found it was nothing but a
dream he was filled with sombre rage. He occupied him-
self, now that the event seemed likely to happen at any time,
with elaborate plans for the future. In these he passed rapid-
ly over the year which he must spend before it was possible
for him to be qualified and dwelt on the journey to Spain
on which his heart was set. He read books about that coun-
try, which he borrowed from the free library, and already
he knew from photographs exactly what each city looked
like. He saw himself lingering in Cordova on the bridge that
spanned the Gaudalquivir; he wandered through tortuous
streets in Toledo and sat in churches where he wrung from

Of Human Bondage