He made friends by chance, but not intimate friends, for he seemed to have
nothing in particular to say to his companions. When he tried to interest
himself in their concerns, he felt that they found him patronising. He was
not of those who can talk of what moves them without caring whether it
bores or not the people they talk to. One man, hearing that he had studied
art in Paris, and fancying himself on his taste, tried to discuss art with
him; but Philip was impatient of views which did not agree with his own;
and, finding quickly that the other's ideas were conventional, grew
monosyllabic. Philip desired popularity but could bring himself to make no
advances to others. A fear of rebuff prevented him from affability, and he
concealed his shyness, which was still intense, under a frigid
taciturnity. He was going through the same experience as he had done at
school, but here the freedom of the medical students' life made it
possible for him to live a good deal by himself.
It was through no effort of his that he became friendly with Dunsford, the
fresh-complexioned, heavy lad whose acquaintance he had made at the
beginning of the session. Dunsford attached himself to Philip merely
because he was the first person he had known at St. Luke's. He had no
friends in London, and on Saturday nights he and Philip got into the habit
of going together to the pit of a music-hall or the gallery of a theatre.
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