Bother that woman!—he meant the parlour-maid. Then aloud, ’What is it? Oh, veal.’ He would have some veal. ’Stuffing?’ Oh! the stuffing formed that brown wart at the side, did it?
He tried to eat his veal, but felt that the eye of Mary was on the back of his head, that she was looking at the nape of his neck, and the hair there, and the collar-button, and a little dust that lay on the collar of his coat. Philip had a mole on the nape of his neck, and he was convinced that this mole formed an object of the liveliest interest to Mary. She was watching the mole; when he opened his jaw, the mole took a header and went under his collar; when he shut his mouth it rose above the collar; whilst he was chewing, the mole danced on the horizon of his collar, to Mary’s infinite amusement.
Philip turned round. His imagination made him fancy that Mary was tittering, overcome by the antics played by his mole.
Philip took wine, and as he felt the glow of the sherry pass down his throat, he wondered whether Mary felt a glow of sympathy down her throat, occasioned by seeing him drink the sherry.
Her presence was unbearable, and yet—if he dismissed her—how was he to be served?
’I’ll ask someone to dine with me to-morrow night,’ he said to himself. Then he turned to Mary as she removed his plate, and said, ’How is baby this afternoon? Does he fret much at his mother’s being away?’
’I beg your pardon, sir; I don’t know. I’ll run and ask nurse.’
Of course she knew, but she made this an excuse for getting out of the dining-room into the freer air of the nursery.
Never, in all his life, had Philip found himself more impatient of the silence imposed on him, more desirous to hear his own voice. In his lodgings he had eaten his meals alone—a chop and some potatoes—and he had had a book or a paper at his side whilst eating; the landlady or the slavey had not stood in the room watching him, observing the parting in his hair behind his head, making fun of his mole, impatient to dust his collar. In his lodgings he had drunk beer or London cooper—now he drank claret, sherry, port; but he would have drunk even water, if he might have been alone.
’No, thank you; no dessert!’ He jumped up—he was eager to leave the room.