Page 929 - of-human-bondage-

took a new knife and fork from the chest of drawers, where
her best cutlery rested among her best clothes. There was
a jug of stout on the table, and ‘Erb poured Philip out a
glass. He wanted to give him the lion’s share of the beef-
steak, but Philip insisted that they should share alike. It was
a sunny room with two windows that reached to the floor;
it had been the parlour of a house which at one time was if
not fashionable at least respectable: it might have been in-
habited fifty years before by a well-to-do tradesman or an
officer on half pay. ‘Erb had been a football player before he
married, and there were photographs on the wall of vari-
ous teams in self-conscious attitudes, with neatly plastered
hair, the captain seated proudly in the middle holding a
cup. There were other signs of prosperity: photographs of
the relations of ‘Erb and his wife in Sunday clothes; on the
chimney-piece an elaborate arrangement of shells stuck on
a miniature rock; and on each side mugs, ‘A present from
Southend’ in Gothic letters, with pictures of a pier and a
parade on them. ‘Erb was something of a character; he was
a non-union man and expressed himself with indignation
at the efforts of the union to force him to join. The union
wasn’t no good to him, he never found no difficulty in get-
ting work, and there was good wages for anyone as ‘ad a
head on his shoulders and wasn’t above puttin’ ‘is ‘and to
anything as come ‘is way. Polly was timorous. If she was
‘im she’d join the union, the last time there was a strike she
was expectin’ ‘im to be brought back in an ambulance every
time he went out. She turned to Philip.
‘He’s that obstinate, there’s no doing anything with ‘im.’

Of Human Bondage