Of Human Bondage W. Somerset Maugham (epub e reader txt) 📖

socks were painful to remove. It was a common complaint, and his fellow “floormen” told him that socks and boots just rotted away from the continual sweating. All the men in his room suffered in the same fashion, and they relieved the pain by sleeping with their feet outside the bedclothes. At first Philip could not walk at all and was obliged to spend a good many of his evenings in the sitting-room at Harrington Street with his feet in a pail of cold water. His companion on these occasions was Bell, the lad in the haberdashery, who stayed in often to arrange the stamps he collected. As he fastened them with little pieces of stamp-paper he whistled monotonously. CIV

The social evenings took place on alternate Mondays. There was one at the beginning of Philip’s second week at Lynn’s. He arranged to go with one of the women in his department.

“Meet ’em ’alf-way,” she said, “same as I do.”

This was Mrs. Hodges, a little woman of five-and-forty, with badly dyed hair; she had a yellow face with a network of small red veins all over it, and yellow whites to her pale blue eyes. She took a fancy to Philip and called him by his Christian name before he had been in the shop a week.

“We’ve both known what it is to come down,” she said.

She told Philip that her real name was not Hodges, but she always referred to “me ’usband Misterodges;” he was a barrister and he treated her simply shocking, so she left him as she preferred to be independent like; but she had known what it was to drive in her own carriage, dear⁠—she called everyone dear⁠—and they always had late dinner at home. She used to pick her teeth with the pin of an enormous silver brooch. It was in the form of a whip and a hunting-crop crossed, with two spurs in the middle. Philip was ill at ease in his new surroundings, and the girls in the shop called him “sidey.” One addressed him as Phil, and he did not answer because he had not the least idea that she was speaking to him; so she tossed her head, saying he was a “stuck-up thing,” and next time with ironical emphasis called him Mister Carey. She was a Miss Jewell, and she was going to marry a doctor. The other girls had never seen him, but they said he must be a gentleman as he gave her such lovely presents.

“Never you mind what they say, dear,” said Mrs. Hodges. “I’ve ’ad to go through it same as you ’ave. They don’t know any better, poor things. You take my word for it, they’ll like you all right if you ’old your own same as I ’ave.”

The social evening was held in the restaurant in the basement. The tables were put on one side so that there might be room for dancing, and smaller ones were set out for progressive whist.

“The ’eads ’ave to get there early,” said Mrs. Hodges.

She introduced him to Miss Bennett, who was the belle of Lynn’s. She was the buyer in the “Petticoats,” and when Philip entered was engaged in conversation with the buyer in the “Gentlemen’s Hosiery;” Miss Bennett was a woman of massive proportions, with a very large red face heavily powdered and a bust of imposing dimensions; her flaxen hair was arranged with elaboration. She was overdressed, but not badly dressed, in black with a high collar, and she wore black glace gloves, in which she played cards; she had several heavy gold chains round her neck, bangles on her wrists, and circular photograph pendants, one being of Queen Alexandra; she carried a black satin bag and chewed Sen-sens.

“Please to meet you, Mr. Carey,” she said. “This is your first visit to our social evenings, ain’t it? I expect you feel a bit shy, but there’s no cause to, I promise you that.”

She did her best to make people feel at home. She slapped them on the shoulders and laughed a great deal.

“Ain’t I a pickle?” she cried, turning to Philip. “What must you think of me? But I can’t ’elp meself.”

Those who were going to take part in the social evening came in, the younger members of the staff mostly, boys who had not girls of their own, and girls who had not yet found anyone to walk with. Several of the young gentlemen wore lounge suits with white evening ties and red silk handkerchiefs; they were going to perform, and they had a busy, abstracted air; some were self-confident, but others were nervous, and they watched their public with an anxious eye. Presently a girl with a great deal of hair sat at the piano and ran her hands noisily across the keyboard. When the audience had settled itself she looked round and gave the name of her piece.

“ ‘A Drive in Russia.’ ”

There was a round of clapping during which she deftly fixed bells to her wrists. She smiled a little and immediately burst into energetic melody. There was a great deal more clapping when she finished, and when this was over, as an encore, she gave a piece which imitated the sea; there were little trills to represent the lapping waves and thundering chords, with the loud pedal down, to suggest a storm. After this a gentleman sang a song called “Bid Me Goodbye,” and as an encore obliged with “Sing Me to Sleep.” The audience measured their enthusiasm with a nice discrimination. Everyone was applauded till he gave an encore, and so that there might be no jealousy no one was applauded more than anyone else. Miss Bennett sailed up to Philip.

“I’m sure you play or sing, Mr. Carey,” she said archly. “I can see it in your face.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Don’t you even recite?”

“I have no parlour tricks.”

The buyer in the “gentleman’s hosiery” was a well-known reciter, and he was called upon loudly to perform by all the assistants in his department.