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The hearse started at a foot's pace; the carriages moved slowly after. In the first went old Jolyon with Nicholas; in the second, the twins, Swithin and James; in the third, Roger and young Roger; Soames, young Nicholas, George, and Bosinney followed in the fourth.
"No; he must know all, if he's to understand." "That's what I thought, but I hate it like the devil!" He had the feeling that he hated it more than she to him sex was so much easier to mention between man and woman than between man and man; and she had always been more natural and frank, not deeply secretive like his Forsyte self. "I wonder if he will understand, even now, Jolyon?
Suddenly recollecting the story of young Jolyon, however, he felt a little comforted, for what could you expect with a father like that! This turned his thoughts into a channel still less pleasant. What was all this talk about Soames and Irene? As in all self-respecting families, an emporium had been established where family secrets were bartered, and family stock priced.
Only Chinese and Japanese painters, and perhaps Leonardo, had known how to get that startling little ego into each painted flower, and bird, and beast the ego, yet the sense of species, the universality of life as well. They were the fellows! 'I've made nothing that will live! thought Jolyon; 'I've been an amateur a mere lover, not a creator.
And the two sported in the distance, under the stairs, on the stairs, and up in the gallery. Old Jolyon begged for Chopin. She played studies, mazurkas, waltzes, till the two children, creeping near, stood at the foot of the piano their dark and golden heads bent forward, listening. Old Jolyon watched. "Let's see you dance, you two!" Shyly, with a false start, they began.
I'll think of my little sweet, and go to sleep. But it was long before the heat and throbbing of the London night died out into the short slumber of the summer morning. And old Jolyon had but forty winks. When he reached home next day he went out to the flower garden, and with the help of Holly, who was very delicate with flowers, gathered a great bunch of carnations.
If that young Soames were such a man of property, he would never miss a thousand a year or so; and under his great white moustache old Jolyon grimly smiled. He felt that what he was doing was in the nature of retributive justice, richly deserved.
But to Jolyon the colours in the hedges of the long straight lane, the twittering of chaffinches who kept pace with them, the perfume of weeds being already burned, the turn of her neck, the fascination of those dark eyes bent on him now and then, the lure of her whole figure, made a deeper impression than the remarks they exchanged.
Whenever Holly or Jolly did anything unpleasing to her a not uncommon occurrence she would say to them: "The little Tayleurs never did that they were such well-brrred little children." Jolly hated the little Tayleurs; Holly wondered dreadfully how it was she fell so short of them. 'A thin rum little soul, old Jolyon thought her Mam'zelle Beauce.
I don't know how to write to him, with this coming on. You've seen that child. Is she pretty?" "Yes, she's pretty," said Soames. "Dark lady-like enough." 'That doesn't sound so bad, thought Winifred. 'Jolyon had style. "It is a coil," she said. "What will father say? "Mustn't be told," said Soames. "The war'll soon be over now, you'd better let Val take to farming out there."
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