His estimate of the
human race was determined by the fact that scarcely anyone failed to
resist the temptation. But he had trained himself not to show any sign
that the reminder wounded him. He had even acquired control over the
blushing which in his boyhood had been one of his torments.
"As you justly remark," he answered, "my money matters have nothing to do
with you and I am my own master."
"At all events you will do me the justice to acknowledge that I was
justified in my opposition when you made up your mind to become an
art-student."
"I don't know so much about that. I daresay one profits more by the
mistakes one makes off one's own bat than by doing the right thing on
somebody's else advice. I've had my fling, and I don't mind settling down
now."
"What at?"
Philip was not prepared for the question, since in fact he had not made up
his mind. He had thought of a dozen callings.
"The most suitable thing you could do is to enter your father's profession
and become a doctor."
"Oddly enough that is precisely what I intend."
He had thought of doctoring among other things, chiefly because it was an
occupation which seemed to give a good deal of personal freedom, and his
experience of life in an office had made him determine never to have
anything more to do with one; his answer to the Vicar slipped out almost
unawares, because it was in the nature of a repartee.
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