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CX

hristmas that year falling on Thursday, the shop was
Cto close for four days: Philip wrote to his uncle ask-
ing whether it would be convenient for him to spend the
holidays at the vicarage. He received an answer from Mrs.
Foster, saying that Mr. Carey was not well enough to write
himself, but wished to see his nephew and would be glad if
he came down. She met Philip at the door, and when she
shook hands with him, said:
‘You’ll find him changed since you was here last, sir; but
you’ll pretend you don’t notice anything, won’t you, sir?
He’s that nervous about himself.’
Philip nodded, and she led him into the dining-room.
‘Here’s Mr. Philip, sir.’
The Vicar of Blackstable was a dying man. There was no
mistaking that when you looked at the hollow cheeks and
the shrunken body. He sat huddled in the arm-chair, with
his head strangely thrown back, and a shawl over his shoul-
ders. He could not walk now without the help of sticks, and
his hands trembled so that he could only feed himself with
difficulty.
‘He can’t last long now,’ thought Philip, as he looked at
him.
‘How d’you think I’m looking?’ asked the Vicar. ‘D’you
think I’ve changed since you were here last?’

Of Human Bondage