The very kindness, too, and pity which he knew surrounded him were scarcely more bearable. He did not want to be pitied, he would sooner be left to drag out a lonely, shunned life than to be surrounded with pity; while with regard to kindness, the knowledge that he and Madge were frankly living on Philip became harder every day to swallow. Philip certainly had done all he could to minimise the burden of that; he had, soi-disant, bought the unfinished picture of himself, declaring that no finished picture could possibly be so like him; he had bought, too, after argument, the picture of Madge. The proceeds he had invested for Evelyn, promising since he had advised him so ill before to take greater care this time, and twice during this last month he had reported substantial profits from the investments he had made for him, so that if he insisted, as he did insist, on paying the bills for his nurse and doctor, he still could run up to London whenever he pleased if Pangbourne bored him. With luck, too, and care his investments would grow fatter yet. On this occasion Evelyn had broken out. "Ah, I can't stand it," he cried. "I can't go on living here, Madge and I, indefinitely. Yes, I know how kind you are, both you and your mother, and how you would be pleased--really pleased--for us to stop forever, but can't you see how impossible it is for me to accept your hospitality like that? I must, I simply must, pay my way, earn something, work and get tired, if only for the distraction of it. A barrel-organ, now. 'Totally blind. Ky-ind Gentleman!' That would be more self-respecting than to sit here and do nothing. It's better to beg in the streets than to accept alms without begging for them. That's why the poor have such a horror of the workhouse. They would sooner be cold and hungry, and so would I." He was silent a moment after this. "I suppose I needn't have said all that," he observed drearily. "However, it doesn't much matter what I say." Philip had a horror of improving the occasion, but he could hardly let such a chance of a word in season slip. He was, too, keenly wounded by this. "You don't recollect, my dear fellow," he said, "that we are all doing our best, and that it is hard not to be hurt by words like those." "Oh, for God's sake don't preach," cried Evelyn. Philip flushed for a moment rather angrily, but re-collected himself. "Indeed, I hope not," he said with a laugh. "Now are you ready to give me my revenge at picquet?" * * * * *