I'm not going to have any more tricks played with me.
You must come."
"I like you very much, Philip, as a friend.
But I can't bear to think of anything else.
I don't like you that way.
I couldn't, Philip."
"You were quite willing to a week ago."
"It was different then."
"You hadn't met Griffiths?"
"You said yourself I couldn't help it if I'm in love with him."
Her face was set into a sulky look, and she kept her eyes fixed on her plate.
Philip was white with rage.
He would have liked to hit her in the face with his clenched fist, and in fancy he saw how she would look with a black eye.
There were two lads of eighteen dining at a table near them, and now and then they looked at Mildred; he wondered if they envied him dining with a pretty girl; perhaps they were wishing they stood in his shoes.
It was Mildred who broke the silence.
"What's the good of our going away together?
I'd be thinking of him all the time.
It wouldn't be much fun for you."
"That's my business," he answered.
She thought over all his reply implicated, and she reddened.
"But that's just beastly."
"What of it?"
"I thought you were a gentleman in every sense of the word."
"You were mistaken." His reply entertained him, and he laughed as he said it.
"For God's sake don't laugh," she cried. "I can't come away with you, Philip.
I'm awfully sorry.
I know I haven't behaved well to you, but one can't force themselves."
"Have you forgotten that when you were in trouble I did everything for you?
I planked out the money to keep you till your baby was born, I paid for your doctor and everything, I paid for you to go to Brighton, and I'm paying for the keep of your baby, I'm paying for your clothes, I'm paying for every stitch you've got on now."
"If you was a gentleman you wouldn't throw what you've done for me in my face."
"Oh, for goodness' sake, shut up.
What d'you suppose I care if I'm a gentleman or not?
If I were a gentleman I shouldn't waste my time with a vulgar slut like you.
I don't care a damn if you like me or not.
I'm sick of being made a blasted fool of.
You're jolly well coming to Paris with me on Saturday or you can take the consequences."
Her cheeks were red with anger, and when she answered her voice had the hard commonness which she concealed generally by a genteel enunciation.
"I never liked you, not from the beginning, but you forced yourself on me, I always hated it when you kissed me.
I wouldn't let you touch me now not if I was starving."
Philip tried to swallow the food on his plate, but the muscles of his throat refused to act.
He gulped down something to drink and lit a cigarette.
He was trembling in every part.
He did not speak.
He waited for her to move, but she sat in silence, staring at the white tablecloth. If they had been alone he would have flung his arms round her and kissed her passionately; he fancied the throwing back of her long white throat as he pressed upon her mouth with his lips.
They passed an hour without speaking, and at last Philip thought the waiter began to stare at them curiously.
He called for the bill.
"Shall we go?" he said then, in an even tone.
She did not reply, but gathered together her bag and her gloves.
She put on her coat.
"When are you seeing Griffiths again?"