Chapter 106PHILIP avoided the places he had known in happier times. The little gatherings at the tavern in Beak Street were broken up: Macalister, having let down his friends, no longer went there, and Hayward was at the Cape. Only Lawson remained; and Philip, feeling that now the painter and he had nothing in common, did not wish to see him; but one Saturday afternoon, after dinner, having changed his clothes he walked down Regent Street to go to the free library in St. Martin's Lane, meaning to spend the afternoon there, and suddenly found himself face to face with him. His first instinct was to pass on without a word, but Lawson did not give him the opportunity.
"Where on earth have you been all this time?" he cried.
"I?" said Philip.
"I wrote you and asked you to come to the studio for a beano and you never even answered."
"I didn't get your letter."
"No, I know. I went to the hospital to ask for you, and I saw my letter in the rack. Have you chucked the Medical?"
Philip hesitated for a moment. He was ashamed to tell the truth, but the shame he felt angered him, and he forced himself to speak. He could not help reddening.
"Yes, I lost the little money I had. I couldn't afford to go on with it."
"I say, I'm awfully sorry. What are you doing?"
"I'm a shop-walker."
The words choked Philip, but he was determined not to shirk the truth. He kept his eyes on Lawson and saw his embarrassment. Philip smiled savagely.
"If you went into Lynn and Sedley, and made your way into the `made robes' department, you would see me in a frock coat, walking about with a _degage_ air and directing ladies who want to buy petticoats or stockings. First to the right, madam, and second on the left."
Lawson, seeing that Philip was making a jest of it, laughed awkwardly. He did not know what to say. The picture that Philip called up horrified him, but he was afraid to show his sympathy.
"That's a bit of a change for you," he said.
His words seemed absurd to him, and immediately he wished he had not said them. Philip flushed darkly.
"A bit," he said. "By the way, I owe you five bob."
He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out some silver.
"Oh, it doesn't matter. I'd forgotten all about it."
"Go on, take it."
Lawson received the money silently. They stood in the middle of the pavement, and people jostled them as they passed. There was a sardonic twinkle in Philip's eyes, which made the painter intensely uncomfortable, and he could not tell that Philip's heart was heavy with despair. Lawson wanted dreadfully to do something, but he did not know what to do.
"I say, won't you come to the studio and have a talk?"
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