Page 901 - of-human-bondage-

On the evening of Boxing Day Philip sat in the din-
ing-room with his uncle. He had to start very early next
morning in order to get to the shop by nine, and he was to
say good-night to Mr. Carey then. The Vicar of Blackstable
was dozing and Philip, lying on the sofa by the window, let
his book fall on his knees and looked idly round the room.
He asked himself how much the furniture would fetch. He
had walked round the house and looked at the things he
had known from his childhood; there were a few pieces of
china which might go for a decent price and Philip won-
dered if it would be worth while to take them up to London;
but the furniture was of the Victorian order, of mahogany,
solid and ugly; it would go for nothing at an auction. There
were three or four thousand books, but everyone knew how
badly they sold, and it was not probable that they would
fetch more than a hundred pounds. Philip did not know
how much his uncle would leave, and he reckoned out for
the hundredth time what was the least sum upon which he
could finish the curriculum at the hospital, take his degree,
and live during the time he wished to spend on hospital ap-
pointments. He looked at the old man, sleeping restlessly:
there was no humanity left in that shrivelled face; it was the
face of some queer animal. Philip thought how easy it would
be to finish that useless life. He had thought it each evening
when Mrs. Foster prepared for his uncle the medicine which
was to give him an easy night. There were two bottles: one
contained a drug which he took regularly, and the other an
opiate if the pain grew unendurable. This was poured out
for him and left by his bed-side. He generally took it at three

00 Of Human Bondage