“I’ve never seen better,” they said, “you didn’t grow it yourself?”
“Yes I did,” he smiled, and a gleam of pride filled his intelligent eyes.
He took off his hat and changed his coat, glanced at the letters and then at the men who were waiting to see him. He made a slight sign with one finger, and the first in the queue stepped into the office. They filed past him one by one and answered his questions. He put them very briefly, keeping his eyes fixed on the applicant’s face.
“Age? Experience? Why did you leave your job?”
He listened to the replies without expression. When it came to Philip’s turn he fancied that Mr. Gibbons stared at him curiously. Philip’s clothes were neat and tolerably cut. He looked a little different from the others.
“Experience?”
“I’m afraid I haven’t any,” said Philip.
“No good.”
Philip walked out of the office. The ordeal had been so much less painful than he expected that he felt no particular disappointment. He could hardly hope to succeed in getting a place the first time he tried. He had kept the newspaper and now looked at the advertisements again: a shop in Holborn needed a salesman too, and he went there; but when he arrived he found that someone had already been engaged. If he wanted to get anything to eat that day he must go to Lawson’s studio before he went out to luncheon, so he made his way along the Brompton Road to Yeoman’s Row.
“I say, I’m rather broke till the end of the month,” he said as soon as he found an opportunity. “I wish you’d lend me half a sovereign, will you?”