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"His daughter's an attractive small girl. Mr. Soames Forsyde is a bit old-fashioned. I want to see him have a pleasure some day." George Forsyte grinned. "Don't you worry; he's not so miserable as he looks. He'll never show he's enjoying anything they might try and take it from him. Old Soames! Once bit, twice shy!" "Well, Jon," said Val, hastily, "if you've finished, we'll go and have coffee."
And Fleur gazed promptly into the fireplace with an air of seeing a fire which was not there. Monsieur Profond came from the window. He was in full fig, with a white waistcoat and a white flower in his buttonhole. "Well, Miss Forsyde," he said, "I'm awful pleased to see you. Mr. Forsyde well? I was sayin' to-day I want to see him have some pleasure. He worries."
How dared he have anything to break, and yet how dared he break it? "Good-night, Miss Forsyde! Remember me to Mrs. Dartie. I'm not so bad, really. Good-night!" Fleur left him standing there with his hat raised. Stealing a look round, she saw him stroll immaculate and heavy back towards his Club. 'He can't even love with conviction, she thought. 'What will Mother do?
Heavy drops fell on to her frills, and to avoid them she crossed over under the eyes of the Iseeum Club. Chancing to look up she saw Monsieur Profond with a tall stout man in the bay window. Turning into Green Street she heard her name called, and saw "that prowler" coming up. He took off his hat a glossy "bowler" such as she particularly detested. "Good evenin'! Miss Forsyde.
There she was the little wretch-looking back at him in her dreamy mood, the mood he loved best because he felt so much safer when she looked like that. He was still gazing when the scent of a cigar impinged on his nostrils, and a voice said: "Well, Mr. Forsyde, what you goin' to do with this small lot?" That Belgian chap, whose mother-as if Flemish blood were not enough had been Armenian!
Certain, that Annette was looking particularly handsome, and that Soames had sold him a Gauguin and then torn up the cheque, so that Monsieur Profond himself had said: "I didn't get that small picture I bought from Mr. Forsyde."
How dared he have anything to break, and yet how dared he break it? "Good-night, Miss Forsyde! Remember me to Mrs. Dartie. I'm not so bad really. Good-night!" Fleur left him standing there with his hat raised. Stealing a look round, she saw him stroll immaculate and heavy back toward his Club. 'He can't even love with conviction, she thought. 'What will Mother do?
Heavy drops fell on to her frills, and to avoid them she crossed over under the eyes of the Iseeum Club. Chancing to look up she saw Monsieur Profond with a tall stout man in the bay window. Turning into Green Street she heard her name called, and saw "that prowler" coming up. He took off his hat a glossy "bowler" such as she particularly detested. "Good evenin'! Miss Forsyde.
Certain, that Annette was looking particularly handsome, and that Soames had sold him a Gauguin and then torn up the cheque, so that Monsieur Profond himself had said: "I didn't get that small picture I bought from Mr. Forsyde."
And Fleur gazed promptly into the fireplace with an air of seeing a fire which was not there. Monsieur Profond came from the window. He was in full fig, with a white waistcoat and a white flower in his buttonhole. "Well, Miss Forsyde," he said, "I'm awful pleased to see you. Mr. Forsyde well? I was sayin' to-day I want to see him have some pleasure. He worries."
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