Football Shirts Display bring old Deacon in to have a look at you. Nonsense, said Philip. There s nothing the matter. I wish you wouldn t bother about me. But it isn t any bother. You ve got a temperature and you must stay in bed. You will, won t you There was a peculiar charm in his manner, a mingling of gravity and kindliness, which was infinitely attractive. You ve got a wonderful bed side manner, Philip murmured, closing his eyes with a smile. Griffiths shook out his pillow for him, deftly smoothed down the bedclothes, and tucked him football shirts display up. He went into Philip s sitting room to look for a siphon, could not find milan football one, and fetched it from his own room. He drew down the blind. Now, go to sleep and I ll bring the old man round as soon as he s done the wards. It seemed hours before anyone came to Philip. His head felt as if it would football shirts display split, anguish rent his limbs, and he was afraid he was going to cry. Then there was a knock at the door and Griffiths, healthy, strong, and cheerful, came in. Here s Doctor Deacon, he said. The physician stepped forward, an elderly man with a bland manner, whom Philip knew only by sight. A few questions, a brief examination, and the diagnosis. What d you make it he asked Griffiths, smilin. g. Influenza. Quite right. Doctor Deacon looked round the dingy lodging house room. Wouldn t you like to go to the hospital They ll put you in a private ward, and you can be better looked after than you can here. I d rather stay where I am, said Philip. He did not want to be disturbed, and he was always shy of new surroundings. He did not fancy nurses fussing about him, and the dreary cleanliness of the hospital. I can look after him, sir, said Griffiths at once. Oh, very well. He wrote a prescription, gave instructions, and left. Now you ve got to do exactly as I tell you, said Griffiths. I m day nurse and night nurse all in one. It s very kind of you, but I shan t want anything, said Philip. Griffiths put his hand on Philip s forehead, a large cool, dry hand, and the touch seemed to him good. I m just going to take this round to the dispensary to have it made up, and then I ll come back. In a little while he brought the medicine and gave Philip a dose. Then he went upstairs to fetch his books. You won t mind my working in your room this afternoon, will you he said, when he came down. I ll leave the door open so that you can give me a shout if you want anything. Later in the day Philip, awaking from an uneasy doze, heard voices in his sitting room. A frien.o clock, and the party broke up. Philip could not get to sleep. Like the others he kept his aching feet outside the bed clothes. He tried with all his might not to think of the life he was leading. The soldier was snoring quietly. chapter 105 The wages were paid once a month by football shirts display the secretary. On pay day each batch of assistants, coming down from tea, went football shirts display into the passage and joined the long line of people waiting orderly like the audience in a queue outside a gallery door. One by one they entered the office. The secretary sat at a desk with wooden bowls of money in front of him, and he asked the employe s name he referred to a book, quickly, after a suspicious glance at the assistant, said aloud the sum due, and taking money out of the bowl counted it into his hand. Thank you, he said. Next. Thank you, was the reply. The assistant passed on to the second secretary and before leaving the room paid him four shillings for washing money, two shillings for the club, and any fines that he might have incurred. With wh. at he had left he went back into his department and there waited till it was time to go. Most of the men in Philip s house were in debt with the woman who sold football shirts display the sandwiches they generally ate for supper. She was a funny old thing, chelsea giroud shirt number very fat, with a broad, red face, and black hair plastered neatly on each side of the forehead in the fashion shown in early pictures of Queen Victoria. She always wore a little black bonnet football shirts display and a white apron her sleeves were tucked up to the elbow she cut the sandwiches with large, dirty, greasy hands and there was grease on her bodice, grease on her apron, grease on her skirt. She was called Mrs. Fletcher, but everyone addressed her as Ma she was psg kits dls kuchalana really fond of the shop assistants, whom she called her boys she never minded giving credit towards the end of the month, and it was known that now and then she had lent someone or other a few shillings when he was in straits. She was a good woman. When they were leaving or when they came back from the holidays, the boys kissed her fat red cheek and more than one, dismissed and unable to find another job, had got for nothing food to keep body and soul together. The boys were sensible of her large heart and repaid her with genuine affection. There was a story they liked to tell of a man who had done well for himself at Bradford, and had five shops of his own, and had come back after fifteen years and visited Ma Fletcher and given her a gold watch. Philip found h.
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Philip had heard him speak, and, though his English was fluent and natural, it had not quite the intonation of the native. Philip knew that he was flirting with Mildred, and he was horribly jealous of him but he took comfort in the coldness of her temperament, which otherwise distressed him and, thinking her incapable of passion, he looked upon his rival as no better off than himself. But his heart sank now, for his first thought was that Miller s sudden appearance might interfere with the jaunt which he had so looked forward to. He entered, sick with apprehension. The waitress came up to him, took his order for tea, and presently brought it. I m awfully, sorry she said, with an expression on her face of real distress. I shan t be able to come tonight after all. Why said Philip. Don t look so stern about it, she laughed. It s not my fault. My aunt was taken ill last night, and it s the girl s night out so I must go and sit with her. She can t be left alone, can she It doesn t matter. I ll see you home instead. But you ve got the tickets. It would be a pity to waste them. He took them out of his pocket and deliberately tore them up. What are you doing that for You don t suppose I want to go and see a rotten musical comedy by myself, do you I only took seats there for your sake. You can t see me home if that s what you mean You ve made other arrangements. I don t know what you mean by that. You re just as selfish as all the rest of them. You only think of yourself. It s not my fault if my aunt s queer. She quickly wrote out h.e mortal and must die. They too loved and must part from those they loved, the son from his mother, the wife from her husband and perhaps it was more tragic because their lives were ugly and sordid, and they knew nothing that gave beauty to the world. There was one stone which was very beautiful, a bas relief of two young men holding each other s hand and the reticence of line, the simplicity, made one like to think that the sculptor here had been touched with a genuine emotion. It was an exquisite memorial to that than which the world offers but one thing more precious, to a friendship and as Philip looked at it, he felt the tears come to his eyes. He thought of Hayward and his eager admiration paris saint germain voetbal shirt for him when first they met, and how disillusion had come and then indifference, till nothing held them together but habit and old memories. It was one of the queer things of life that you saw a person every day for months and were so intimate with him that you could not imagine existence without him then separation came, and everything went on in the same way, and the companion who had seemed essential proved unnecessary. Your life proceeded and you did not even miss him. Philip thought of those early days in Heidelberg when Hayward, capable of great things, had been full of enthusiasm for the future, and how, little by little, achieving nothing, he had resigned himself to failure. Now he was dead. His death had been as futile as his life. He died ingloriously, of a stupid disease, failing once more, even at the end, to accomplish anything. It was just the same now as if he bayern munich kits 2019 dream league had never lived. Philip asked himself desperately what was the use of living at all. It all seemed inane. It was the same with Cronshaw it was quite unimportant that he had lived he was dead and forgotten, his book of poems sold in remainder by second hand booksellers his life seemed to have served nothing except to give a pushing journalist occasion to write an article in a review. And Philip cried out in his soul What is the use of it The effort was so incommensurate with the result. 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