or something better
than to add up accounts, and it was humiliating that he did so ill
something which seemed contemptible. The vulgar scenes with Thompson got
on his nerves. In March Watson ended his year at the office and Philip,
though he did not care for him, saw him go with regret. The fact that the
other clerks disliked them equally, because they belonged to a class a
little higher than their own, was a bond of union. When Philip thought
that he must spend over four years more with that dreary set of fellows
his heart sank. He had expected wonderful things from London and it had
given him nothing. He hated it now. He did not know a soul, and he had no
idea how he was to get to know anyone. He was tired of going everywhere by
himself. He began to feel that he could not stand much more of such a
life. He would lie in bed at night and think of the joy of never seeing
again that dingy office or any of the men in it, and of getting away from
those drab lodgings.

A great disappointment befell him in the spring. Hayward had announced his
intention of coming to London for the season, and Philip had looked
forward very much to seeing him again. He had read so much lately and
thought so much that his mind was full of ideas which he wanted to
discuss, and he knew nobody who was willing to interest himself in
abstract things. He was quite excited at the thought of talking his fill
with someone, and he was wretched when Hayward wrote to say that the
spring was lovelier than ever he had known it in Italy, and he could not
bear to tear himself away. He went on to ask why Philip did not come. What
was the use of squandering the days of his youth in an office when the
world was beautiful? The letter proceeded.

I wonder you can bear it. I think of Fleet Street and Lincoln's Inn now
with a shudder of disgust. There are only two things in the world that
make life worth living, love and art. I cannot imagine you sitting in an
office over a ledger, and do you wear a tall hat and an umbrella and a
little black bag? My feeling is that one should look upon life as an
adventure, one should burn with the hard, gem-like flame, and one should
take risks, one should expose oneself to danger. Why do you not go to
Paris and study art? I always thought you had talent.

The suggestion fell in with the possibility that Philip for some time had
been vaguely turning over in his mind. It startled him at first, but he
could not help thinking o