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Philip opened the door and called him. He was sitting
in the dark on the first step of the flight that led to the next
floor. He came up to the bed.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.
‘Why, there’s internal bleeding. It’s impossible to stop it.’
The S. O. C. hesitated a moment, and because it was a pain-
ful thing to say he forced his voice to become brusque. ‘She’s
dying.’
The man did not say a word; he stopped quite still, look-
ing at his wife, who lay, pale and unconscious, on the bed. It
was the midwife who spoke.
‘The gentlemen ‘ave done all they could, ‘Arry,’ she said. ‘I
saw what was comin’ from the first.’
‘Shut up,’ said Chandler.
There were no curtains on the windows, and gradually
the night seemed to lighten; it was not yet the dawn, but the
dawn was at hand. Chandler was keeping the woman alive
by all the means in his power, but life was slipping away
from her, and suddenly she died. The boy who was her hus-
band stood at the end of the cheap iron bed with his hands
resting on the rail; he did not speak; but he looked very pale
and once or twice Chandler gave him an uneasy glance,
thinking he was going to faint: his lips were gray. The mid-
wife sobbed noisily, but he took no notice of her. His eyes
were fixed upon his wife, and in them was an utter bewil-
derment. He reminded you of a dog whipped for something
he did not know was wrong. When Chandler and Philip
had gathered together their things Chandler turned to the
husband.

Of Human Bondage