I thought you might say I didn't know what all."
He saw that she was crying again. He remembered how she had come to him
when Emil Miller had deserted her and how she had wept. The recollection
of her suffering and of his own humiliation seemed to render more
overwhelming the compassion he felt now.
"If I could only get out of it!" she moaned. "I hate it so. I'm unfit for
the life, I'm not the sort of girl for that. I'd do anything to get away
from it, I'd be a servant if I could. Oh, I wish I was dead."
And in pity for herself she broke down now completely. She sobbed
hysterically, and her thin body was shaken.
"Oh, you don't know what it is. Nobody knows till they've done it."
Philip could not bear to see her cry. He was tortured by the horror of her
position.
"Poor child," he whispered. "Poor child."
He was deeply moved. Suddenly he had an inspiration. It filled him with a
perfect ecstasy of happiness.
"Look here, if you want to get away from it, I've got an idea. I'm
frightfully hard up just now, I've got to be as economical as I can; but
I've got a sort of little flat now in Kennington and I've got a spare
room. If you like you and the baby can come and live there. I pay a woman
three and sixpence a week to keep the place clean and to do a little
cooking for me. You could do that and your food wouldn't come to much more
than the money I should save on her.
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