"OF HUMAN BONDAGE" - читать интересную книгу автора (Maugham W. Somerset)

little she had slipped through her fingers in one way and
another, so that now, when all expenses were paid, not much more
than two thousand pounds remained to support the boy till he was
able to earn his own living. It was impossible to explain all
this to Philip and he was sobbing still.

"You'd better go to Emma," Mr. Carey said, feeling that she
could console the child better than anyone.

Without a word Philip slipped off his uncle's knee, but Mr.
Carey stopped him."

We must go tomorrow, because on Saturday I've got to prepare my
sermon, and you must tell Emma to get your things ready today.
You can bring all your toys. And if you want anything to
remember your father and mother by you can take one thing for
each of them. Everything else is going to be sold."

The boy slipped out of the room. Mr. Carey was unused to work,
and he turned to his correspondence with resentment. On one side
of the desk was a bundle of bills, and these filled him with
irritation. One especially seemed preposterous. Immediately
after Mrs. Carey's death Emma had ordered from the florist
masses of white flowers for the room in which the dead woman
lay. It was sheer waste of money. Emma took far too much upon
herself. Even if there had been no financial necessity, he would
have dismissed her.

But Philip went to her, and hid his face in her bosom, and wept
as though his heart would break. And she, feeling that he was
almost her own son--she had taken him when he was a month
old--consoled him with soft words. She promised that she would
come and see him sometimes, and that she would never forget him;
and she told him about the country he was going to and about her
own home in Devonshire--her father kept a turnpike on the
high-road that led to Exeter, and there were pigs in the sty,
and there was a cow, and the cow had just had a calf--till
Philip forgot his tears and grew excited at the thought of his
approaching journey. Presently she put him down, for there was
much to be done, and he helped her to lay out his clothes on the
bed. She sent him into the nursery to gather up his toys, and in
a little while he was playing happily.

But at last he grew tired of being alone and went back to the
bed-room, in which Emma was now putting his things into a big
tin box; he remembered then that his uncle had said he might
take something to remember his father and mother by. He told
Emma and asked her what he should take.

"You'd better go into the drawing-room and see what you fancy."