instant.

"Don't think I'm conferring any benefit on you," he said. "It's simply a
business arrangement, I'm giving you board and lodging in return for your
work. You don't owe me anything. And there's nothing humiliating to you in
it."

She did not answer, but tears rolled heavily down her cheeks. Philip knew
from his experience at the hospital that women of her class looked upon
service as degrading: he could not help feeling a little impatient with
her; but he blamed himself, for it was clear that she was tired and ill.
He got up and helped her to lay another place at the table. The baby was
awake now, and Mildred had prepared some Mellin's Food for it. The liver
and bacon were ready and they sat down. For economy's sake Philip had
given up drinking anything but water, but he had in the house a half a
bottle of whiskey, and he thought a little would do Mildred good. He did
his best to make the supper pass cheerfully, but Mildred was subdued and
exhausted. When they had finished she got up to put the baby to bed.

"I think you'll do well to turn in early yourself," said Philip. "You look
absolute done up."

"I think I will after I've washed up."

Philip lit his pipe and began to read. It was pleasant to hear somebody
moving about in the next room. Sometimes his loneliness had oppressed him.
Mildred came in to clear the table, and he heard the clatter of plates as
she washed up. Philip smiled as he thought how characteristic it was of
her that she should do all that in a black silk dress. But he had work to
do, and he brought his book up to the table. He was reading Osler's
Medicine, which had recently taken the place in the students' favour of
Taylor's work, for many years the text-book most in use. Presently Mildred
came in, rolling down her sleeves. Philip gave her a casual glance, but
did not move; the occasion was curious, and he felt a little nervous. He
feared that Mildred might imagine he was going to make a nuisance of
himself, and he did not quite know how without brutality to reassure her.

"By the way, I've got a lecture at nine, so I should want breakfast at a
quarter past eight. Can you manage that?"

"Oh, yes. Why, when I was in Parliament Street I used to catch the
eight-twelve from Herne Hill every morning."

"I hope you'll find your room comfortable. You'll be a different woman
tomorrow after a long night in bed."

"I suppose you work till late?"

"I generally work till about eleven or hal