lay in his bed in
the small ward with its red, distempered walls he had longed for fresh air
and the splashing of the sea against his breast. He felt he would go mad
if he had to spend another night in London. Mildred recovered her good
temper when she saw the streets of Brighton crowded with people making
holiday, and they were both in high spirits as they drove out to Kemp
Town. Philip stroked the baby's cheek.

"We shall get a very different colour into them when we've been down here
a few days," he said, smiling.

They arrived at the boarding-house and dismissed the cab. An untidy maid
opened the door and, when Philip asked if they had rooms, said she would
inquire. She fetched her mistress. A middle-aged woman, stout and
business-like, came downstairs, gave them the scrutinising glance of her
profession, and asked what accommodation they required.

"Two single rooms, and if you've got such a thing we'd rather like a cot
in one of them."

"I'm afraid I haven't got that. I've got one nice large double room, and
I could let you have a cot."

"I don't think that would do," said Philip.

"I could give you another room next week. Brighton's very full just now,
and people have to take what they can get."

"If it were only for a few days, Philip, I think we might be able to
manage," said Mildred.

"I think two rooms would be more convenient. Can you recommend any other
place where they take boarders?"

"I can, but I don't suppose they'd have room any more than I have."

"Perhaps you wouldn't mind giving me the address."

The house the stout woman suggested was in the next street, and they
walked towards it. Philip could walk quite well, though he had to lean on
a stick, and he was rather weak. Mildred carried the baby. They went for
a little in silence, and then he saw she was crying. It annoyed him, and
he took no notice, but she forced his attention.

"Lend me a hanky, will you? I can't get at mine with baby," she said in a
voice strangled with sobs, turning her head away from him.

He gave her his handkerchief, but said nothing. She dried her eyes, and as
he did not speak, went on.

"I might be poisonous."

"Please don't make a scene in the street," he said.

"It'll look so funny insisting on separate rooms like that. What'll they
think of us?"

"If they knew the circumstances I imagine they'd think us surprisingly
moral," said Philip.

She gave him a sidelong glance.

"You're not going to give