Of Human Bondage Page #8

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Have to ask him his

intentions. Oh, really?

Yes. The young man popped

the question to Sally.

She told us about it, and

we said, "oh, bring him in."

He's in a very good way of business.

Isn't Sally rather young?

She's young, healthy, and feminine.

And since she's been apprenticed

To the dressmaker,

she's had many admirers.

Sally's old for her years.

But she's helped me

with the housework

And the children, and she's

a mighty good manager, too.

So, sometimes I tell her I think

She's a bit too fond

of having her own way.

I'm finding myself

A little jealous.

Oh, you never noticed our little girl.

Larger, she is. Although in

confidence, I can't say the same

For her where you were

concerned.

Now I find myself flattered.

You shouldn't have

stayed away so long.

Is he with you?

No, mother, he's not.

Soon I will be a grandfather,

And that will be

yet a new experience.

I rather relish the thought.

Philip! We've been wondering

what happened to you.

Sally, where is he?

He jilted you.

You look tired.

Merry Christmas, and congratulations.

There's nothing to

congratulate me for, Philip.

No?

Sally, where is this

Mr. Donaldson of yours?

I told him I wasn't very anxious

To marry anyone just now.

And what did the poor

young man say to that?

Well, he took on so,

I sent him away.

But, Sally,

I thought you said he was nice.

He was silly, mother.

You're not going to have him in?

No.

Well. When you've got

a good chance like that,

It seems wicked not to take it.

It's no good

your carrying on, mother.

She's not going to marry him.

If you want me to earn

my own living, mother,

I can always be

a servant somewhere.

What? That I would never permit.

You are an Athlnly.

The Athlnlys are masters...

Masters without a bob

in the world, perhaps,

But serfs, never!

Athelny, you're

waking the children.

Sally?

I brought you a small present.

It belonged to my mother.

Go on, take it.

Look, father.

Well, that is nice.

Give him a kiss for it,

Under the mistletoe.

No, I...

You ungrateful little hussy. Why not?

It was very kind of you, Philip.

Well, I must go.

But it's Christmas eve.

I know, but...

Philip, are you

leading a double life?

You disappear

for weeks at a time.

You belong to us, you know.

You did for a while.

I love you all very,

very much. You know that.

Well, then dinner tomorrow. 1:00 sharp.

Turkey, stuffing, sausages,

pudding. We shall expect you.

You will come, won't you?

I'll try.

Good night.

Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas to you, Philip.

No coat. He's got

something on his mind.

I wonder why he wouldn't be definite

About coming for

Christmas dinner tomorrow.

Oh, well, he said he'd try.

Of course, it could be that he had

A wife and children hidden

away in a dark cellar.

If he has, why

should he hide them?

It's no wonder he doesn't want

To come here, father...

Why he wouldn't stay to supper,

Why he hasn't been here,

Why he won't come tomorrow.

It's because you keep

throwing me up in his face.

I think I understand,

my little girl.

Do I, Sally?

It's Philip,

isn't it? Hmm?

Come on.

Tell your father.

Why, Philip's never even

noticed her except as a child.

You have an imagination, Athlnly.

Look here. Tomorrow

we'll go over, you and I.

Top of the bus.

We'll go over to Kensington

And drag him out by

the scruff of the neck.

We may have to carry him.

He's quite tall, you know.

Let's do it. You take his

head. I'll take his legs.

We may have quite a job

getting him on top of the bus.

Well, he gave you

that, didn't he?

Yes. It's pretty,

isn't it?

Why, it's Mr. Carey.

Oh, come in, sir.

Hello,

Mrs. Gray.

A nice night for

Christmas eve, ain't it?

That's right.

Yes.

Oh, you're soaking,

and no overcoat.

No. Is

Mr. Dunsford in?

Hmm?

Mr. Dunsford.

Is he in?

No. He's not home. He's

gone back to Yorkshire

For the Christmas holidays.

He said he'd be back, though,

Before the new year was out.

Mr. Griffiths,

he's upstairs.

Doing a bit of celebrating, as usual.

But then Christmas comes

but once a year, as they say.

Why don't you

hop up and see him?

No. I don't want

to see Mr. Griffiths.

Will you sit down,

Mr. Carey?

Thank you.

You could go

into your old rooms.

The gentleman using them is away, too.

I'm not keeping you

from anything, am I?

It's Christmas, I know.

Not at all. I can light a bit of fire

In there for you. Oh. You're soaking.

I've got a drop of

brandy in the house...

That's if you could take spirits.

Yes, if it isn't too much trouble.

Thank you.

Where might you be

living now, Mr. Carey?

You ain't well, Mr.

Carey, and you know it.

Oh, I'm so sorry.

Ok. Mrs. Gray, would you

mind getting my medicine kit?

You'll find it next

to my desk. Yes, sir.

You might ask my friends to

be a little quieter, please.

Stay where you are, old boy.

What's going on?

We must get these

wet clothes off.

No. Do as I say, you

fool. I'm a doctor.

I think you have pneumonia.

The first fine day in spring,

I felt strong enough to go out,

And I immediately went to see

my old friends, the Athlnlys.

Hello, Sally.

May I come in?

Of course, Philip.

The house seems quiet.

Where are the children?

They've gone to a picnic

in Epping forest.

You're wearing an overcoat

Now that the sun is out.

Sally!

Yes, Philip?

Your hair is up.

It's nice of you to

have noticed it, Philip.

Do you want to see father?

It's Philip, father.

Hello, Athlnly.

Hello, Carey.

Sally's growing up.

Yes, the buds are blooming.

Time goes on.

I'm very glad to be here again.

I thought a great

deal about you all.

Oh, that's nice.

I've been ill, very ill.

I'm sorry.

Sit down.

Thanks.

You look thinner. You still

working at the hospital?

No.

Oh. You've chucked

medicine?

I lost the little money I had.

I can't afford to go on with it.

No money. What about

your uncle, the vicar?

He's very ill.

I wrote to him,

and dr. Stone,

Who is taking care of him,

Said he couldn't last

through the winter.

In the meantime,

I must find a job.

I have this deformity, of course.

Oh, your club foot.

You don't think

with your feet, do you?

I had so many hours to think

Since I saw you last.

Christmas, wasn't it?

Christmas. Yes.

You know, I can tell you the

history of man in one line.

Oh, can you?

He's born, he suffers, and he dies.

To me it doesn't matter

Whether I was born or not born,

Whether I live or cease to live.

I've given up my ideas of happiness.

It matters as little as pain.

It's all part of a design,

One of a set of patterns.

The most obvious pattern, and

the most beautiful one to me,

Is that man is born.

He grows into manhood.

I mean, manhood.

He marries, produces

children, toils for his bread,

And then he dies.

Well, I feel that in giving up

The desire for happiness,

I'm throwing away the

last of my illusions.

Illusions? Your

deformity, as you call it,

Is an illusion.

Everyone suffers from some

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