Chapter 100 Chapter 100

Saturday.Philip had promised the landlady to pay the rent on this day.For a week he had spent every day in anticipation of something new, and found nothing.He had never fallen into such a desperate situation, so he was at a loss and helpless.In his heart he always thought that all this was a ridiculous joke.He only had a few copper coins with him, and all the clothes he didn't need to wear were sold out.He also had a few books and odds and ends in his lodgings, which might sell for a shilling or two.However, the landlady was watching his every move, and he was afraid that he would be stopped by the landlady when he took things out of the residence.The only way was to tell the landlady straight up that he couldn't pay the rent, but he had the courage to do so.It's mid-June, and the nights are still warm and pleasant.So Philip decided to spend the night away.He walked slowly along the Chelsea Causeway, which was as smooth as glass and silent.Finally, tired from walking, he sat down on a bench and took a nap.He suddenly woke up from the dream, not knowing how long he had slept.He dreamed of a policeman pushing him awake, urging him to keep going.However, he opened his eyelids and found that there was no one else around him.Somehow he moved on again, and finally came to Chizik, where he slept again.The bench was so stiff that he slept very uncomfortable, and he woke up not long after.This night seemed very long.He couldn't help shivering.A feeling of desolation climbed into his heart, and he didn't know what to do.He was ashamed that he had spent the night on the causeway, and it seemed particularly humiliating to him.Sitting in the dark, he felt his cheeks burning hot.Now he recalled what had been said to him by those who had been through it before, some of whom had been clergymen, officers, and college students.He wondered to himself if he, too, would be one of them, to join the line at the front of the charity, waiting for a bowl of soup.Instead of this, it would be better to commit suicide for the rest of his life, he can't just live like that.Lawson would certainly have given him a helping hand if he had known what he had found himself in.To save face by not asking for help is absurd.He couldn't understand how he had come to be in such a miserable situation.He had always judged the situation, always tried to do what he thought was best, but now everything was out of order.He'd always helped people when he could, didn't think he was more selfish than anyone else, and now that he's in this predicament, it seems so unfair.

But what's the point of sitting around and dreaming.He walked on.At this time, the morning light was twilight, everything was silent, the river looked extremely beautiful, and there seemed to be a mysterious atmosphere all around.This day must be a fine day, the sky at dawn is white, without a cloud.Philip was exhausted, hungry was gnawing at his insides, but he could not sit down and rest because he was constantly afraid that the police would clean him up.He couldn't stand that humiliation.He found himself dirty and wished he could take a bath.At last he came to Hampton Court Court, feeling that he would cry if he had not something to eat.So, he chose an inferior restaurant and went in.The restaurant was steaming, which made him a little sick.He planned to eat some nutritious food to last for the next few days, but when he saw the food, he couldn't stop feeling sick.He had only a cup of tea and some bread and butter.Now, remembering that it was Sunday, he could well have gone to Athelny's, where they might have roast beef and Yorkshire puddings.But he was too tired to face the happy, noisy family.He frowns, expresses his mood clearly, and just wants to stay in one place by himself.So he decided to go into the gardens of Hampton Court Palace and lie still for a while.His bones ached.Perhaps he could find a pump room so he could wash his face and hands and drink from it, for now he was so thirsty that smoke was coming from his throat.Now that his stomach was full, he thought of the flowers, the lawn, and the tall trees with a lot of interest. He felt that in such an environment, he could better plan for the future.With a pipe in his mouth, he was lying on his back on the lawn under the shade of greenery.In order to save money, he has only allowed himself to smoke two bags of cigarettes a day for a long time.Seeing that the pipe can still be filled with shredded tobacco, a feeling of gratitude wells up from the bottom of my heart.How other people spend their days when they have no money, he doesn't know.After a while, he fell asleep soundly.When I woke up, it was already noon.Before long, he thought, he would have to set off for London, trying to be there in the early hours of the next morning to answer the job advertisements that made a difference.Philip thought of the Uncle Vicar, who had promised to keep some of his property to himself when he died.How much this inheritance was, Philip did not know: it was only a few hundred pounds at most.He wondered if he would be able to raise the money he was about to inherit.Well, the money can't be withdrawn without the old man's consent, and his uncle will never let go with his eyes closed.

"The only thing I can do is wait patiently until he dies!" Philip began to think of his uncle's age.The Vicar of Blackstable was past seventy years old, and suffering from chronic bronchitis.But many old people are suffering from the same disease, but they cling to the world one by one, and the death date is still far away.However, during this period, there will always be something new.Philip always felt that there was something abnormal about his situation, that people in his special position would never starve.Just because he didn't want to believe that his current situation was real, he wasn't disappointed.He made up his mind to borrow half a pound from Lawson first.Philip stayed all day in Hampton Court Palace Gardens, smoking cigarettes when he was hungry, and not eating until he started for London, which was a long way and he had to pay for it. After this journey, recharge your batteries.When the weather turned cooler, he set off for London. When he was tired, he lay down on a long bench by the side of the road for a while.No one bothered him along the way.In Victoria Street he washed, had a cup of tea, and ate some bread and butter.While he ate, he scanned the advertising columns in the morning paper, and his eyes rested on the advertisements for salesmen in the upholstery departments of several well-known companies.His heart inexplicably became a little heavy.Confined by the prejudice of the middle class, he thought it was embarrassing to step into a store and work as a salesperson, but he shrugged his shoulders.After all, what does it matter?He decided to give it a try.Philip couldn't help being surprised. He felt that he was resigned to every humiliation he suffered, and even went forward openly, as if he was threatening fate to show his cards against him.With unspeakable shame, he came to the upholstery department at nine o'clock.At this time, he found that many people had arrived ahead of him.Among them were men of all ages, from boys of sixteen to men of forty.A few people were talking in lowered voices, but most were silent.All around Philip cast hostile glances at him as he entered the line.At this moment, he heard someone say:

"I just wish I had been notified earlier that I had lost the election so I could find work elsewhere in time." The man standing behind glanced at Philip, and then asked: "Have you ever done this kind of work before?" "Never did." After a pause, the man continued, "After lunch, even a small inn will not accept you without prior reservation." Philip looked at the shop assistants, some of whom were busy hanging polished calicoes and calicoes, and others who, he heard from those around them, were sorting out orders from the country. .At about a quarter past nine, the manager arrived.He heard someone in the line tell another that this was Mr. Gibbons.This person looks middle-aged, short and fat, with a bushy beard.Dark hair, shiny.He moved briskly and had a shrewd look on his face.He wore a silk hat on his head, a frock coat, and a white geranium surrounded by green leaves pinned to his lapel.He walked straight into the office, leaving the door open.The office was small, with an American-style desk with a flap in the corner, and a bookcase and a chest of drawers.The people standing outside watched Mr. Gibbons slowly remove the geranium from the lapel of his coat and insert it into the inkwell filled with water.It is said that it is against the rules not to spend money at work.

(During working hours that day, the shop assistants praised the geranium one by one in order to please their immediate superiors. "I never saw a more beautiful flower in my life," they said, eagerly. "You couldn't have planted it yourself, did you?" "I grew it myself," said Mr. Gibbons, with a broad smile, and a gleam of pride in his bright eyes. ) Mr. Gibbons took off his hat and frock coat, glanced at the letters on the table, and then at the people standing outside the door.He bent his fingers slightly and made a gesture, and the first person in line entered his office.These people walked past him one by one, answering his questions.He asked very briefly, and when he was asking, his eyes were fixed on the faces of the candidates.

"Age? Experience? Why did you leave your previous job?" He listened to the others' answers with an expressionless face.When Philip's turn came he felt Mr. Gibbons looking at him strangely.Philip was neatly dressed that day, and his clothes were cut to the touch, which made him look a little different. "What experience?" "I'm sorry, but I've never had such a job," Philip answered. "That won't work." Philip came out of the office, and the experience had not caused him more pain than he had imagined, so he was not particularly distressed.He cannot have the luxury of finding a job right away.At this time, he was still holding the newspaper in his hand, so he looked for it in the advertisement column again.He found out that a store in the Holborn area was also looking for a salesperson.However, when I went there, I found that the position had already been taken.If he still wanted to eat on this day, he had to arrive at Lawson's studio before Lawson went out to eat.He strolled down Brompton Road towards Liberty Street.

"Well, I'm out of money before the end of the month," Philip said to Lawson at every opportunity. "I wish you would lend me half a pound, would you?" He found it difficult to ask others to borrow money.Now he recalled the carelessness with which some of the people in the hospital had borrowed money from him, and not only had no intention of returning it, but had looked as if they were doing him a favor. "Greatly," said Lawson. But when Lawson reached into his pocket for the money, he found that he had only eight shillings in all.Philip's heart suddenly turned cold.

"Well, er, lend me five shillings, will you?" he said softly. "Here, five shillings for you." Philip went to a Westminster public bath and paid sixpence for a bath.Then, he bought some food to fill his stomach.He himself didn't know what to do with the afternoon.He didn't want to go back to the hospital for fear of being caught asking questions, and besides, there was nothing he could do there right now.People in the two or three departments he'd been in might have been puzzled by his absence, but they were free to think what they wanted, and he wasn't the first to leave without saying goodbye anyway.He came to the free library, borrowed a few newspapers to read, and when he got tired of reading, he pulled out Stevenson's "New Arabian Nights".However, he found that he couldn't read a single word.What was written in the book meant nothing to him, because he was still thinking about his present predicament.He was thinking about the same problem over and over in his mind, his head was swollen.Then, longing for a breath of fresh air, he came out of the library to Green Park and lay on his back on the lawn.He thought woefully of his disability, of being crippled and unable to fight at the front.He gradually fell into a dream, dreaming that his feet suddenly became better, and he left the motherland and came to the cavalry team at the Cape of Good Hope.What he saw in newspaper illustrations gave wings to his imagination.He saw himself in Feldt, in khaki uniform, sitting with others around a campfire at night.When he woke up, he found that it was still early in the morning. After a while, he heard the big clock on the House Tower knocking seven times in succession.He still had to spend the remaining twelve hours bored, and he was particularly afraid of the long night.The sky was overcast and he was worried that it was going to rain.In this way, he had to go to the boarding dormitory to rent a shop for the night.At Lampeth's he had seen an advertisement on the lamp-shade in front of the lodging house: Comfortable beds, sixpence a bunk.But he'd never lived in it, and was afraid of the disgusting smell and bugs.He made up his mind that as long as the weather is good, he will spend the night outside.He stayed in the park until the gate was closed, and then he got up and walked around.Right now, he feels exhausted.Suddenly, he thought it might be good luck to have an accident.That way, he could have been sent to the hospital and spent weeks in a clean bed.In the middle of the night he was so hungry that he ate some potatoes and drank a cup of coffee at the corner of Hyde Park.Then he wandered around again.He was restless and sleepless, and he was afraid of encountering the police to urge him to keep going.He noticed that gradually he saw the policemen in a new light.This is his third night camping out.From time to time he sat down on a bench in Piccadilly for a short rest, and at dawn he wandered down to Chelsea Causeway.He listened to the clang of the big clock on the Senate Tower, making a mark every quarter of an hour, thinking about how long it would take for the city to wake up.In the morning, after washing and dressing for a few coppers, he bought a newspaper and read the advertisements in it, and then he went on to look for work.

For several days, he spent like this.He ate very little, and gradually felt lethargic and weak, and could no longer summon the energy to look for work, which seemed impossible.With a glimmer of hope of being admitted, he waited for a long time at the door of the store, but was sent away with a few words.He gradually got used to it.He looked at the description of the job advertisement, followed the instructions, and ran all over London to find a job.But it didn't take long for him to find that some familiar people had nothing to gain as he did.One or two of them wanted to make him a friend, but he was too tired and listless to accept their overtures.He never went to Lawson again, because he still owed Lawson five shillings.Recently, he has been dizzy all day long, and his brain is not working well, so he doesn't care much about what will happen to him in the future.He cried a lot, and at first he couldn't stop being angry with himself, and felt ashamed, but then he found that crying made him feel better, at least it made him feel less hungry.In the early hours of the morning, the wind was biting, and he suffered.Late one night, he slipped into the apartment to change his underwear.At about three o'clock in the morning, he concluded that the people in the house were still sleeping soundly, so he slipped into the room quietly, and sneaked out again at five o'clock in the morning.During this period, he lay on his back on the soft bed, feeling really happy.At this time, his bones were aching.He lay quietly on the bed, savoring the pleasure triumphantly, feeling so comfortable that he couldn't fall asleep anyway.He gradually got used to the days of not having enough to eat, and he didn't really feel hungry, but just felt weak all over.Thoughts of suicide were often flitting through his mind at the moment, but he did his best to keep the thought out of it, for fear that if it got the better of him he would lose control of himself.He told himself silently over and over again that it was absurd to commit suicide, because it would not be long before his luck would turn around.Nothing he said could shake the impression that his present predicament seemed so absurd that he did not take it seriously.He thought of it as an illness he had to live with, but would eventually recover from.Every night he swore, vowed, that no power could bring him to bear another such blow, and resolved to write next morning to his uncle and Mr. Nixon, the lawyer, or to Lawson.But next morning he had no desire to humbly admit his defeat to them.He didn't know how Lawson would react when he found out about his situation.In their friendly intercourse Lawson, who had always been frivolous and impetuous, prided himself on being somewhat of a man of the world.He would have to tell Lawson all about his folly.After helping him once, Philip felt uneasy that Lawson might turn him away.As for his uncle and the lawyer, they would certainly say something, but he was afraid that they would reprimand him, and he himself did not want to be reprimanded by anyone.He gritted his teeth, and kept muttering in his heart: Since things happened, it was inevitable, and it was ridiculous to be upset.

Day after day passed like this, but the five shillings Lawson lent him could not last long.Philip was looking forward to Sunday's arrival with great eagerness, so that he could go to Athelny's.What had prevented him from going to the Athelny's, Philip could not have said, but perhaps it was his desire to get through it alone.Although Athelny's family was in a difficult situation and he was living a tight life, but now only Athelny can relieve him of his problems.Perhaps after lunch he could tell Athelny about his difficulty.He kept repeating what he wanted to say to Athelny.He was terribly afraid that Athelny would send him off with flattering words, which he could not bear.Therefore, he wanted to delay the time as much as possible, and let himself taste the bitterness of being treated coldly later.At this point Philip lost all confidence in his companions.

Saturday night, wet and cold.Philip had a hard time.From noon on Saturday until he trudged wearily to Athelny's house he had not eaten a grain of rice or taken in a drop of water.On Sunday morning he spent his last twopence in the toilet in Charlean Cross, freshening up.