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"Rather late in the day, isn't it?" "Yes," said Soames. And there was a silence. "I don't know much about these things at least, I've forgotten," said Jolyon with a wry smile. He himself had had to wait for death to grant him a divorce from the first Mrs. Jolyon. "Do you wish me to see her about it?" Soames raised his eyes to his cousin's face. "I suppose there's someone," he said.
Did the Law not know that a man's name was to him the apple of his eye, that it was far harder to be regarded as cuckold than as seducer? He actually envied Jolyon the reputation of succeeding where he, Soames, had failed. The question of damages worried him, too.
Soames' figure ranged up alongside. "Hansom!" he said. "Engaged? Hallo!" "Hallo!" answered Jolyon. "You?" The quick suspicion on his cousin's face, white in the lamplight, decided him. "I can give you a lift," he said, "if you're going West." "Thanks," answered Soames, and got in. "I've been seeing Irene," said Jolyon when the cab had started. "Indeed!"
So far Jolyon had kept some semblance of irony, but now his subject carried him away. "Jon, I want to explain to you if I can and it's very hard how it is that an unhappy marriage such as this can so easily come about. You will of course say: 'If she didn't really love him how could she ever have married him? You would be right if it were not for one or two rather terrible considerations.
Manners change and modes evolve, and "Timothy's on the Bayswater Road" becomes a nest of the unbelievable in all except essentials; we shall not look upon its like again, nor perhaps on such a one as James or Old Jolyon.
Could he really be considered a butler? Playful spirits alluded to him as: 'Uncle Jolyon's Nonconformist'; George, the acknowledged wag, had named him: 'Sankey. He moved to and fro between the great polished sideboard and the great polished table inimitably sleek and soft. Old Jolyon watched him, feigning sleep.
"Grey; but otherwise much the same." "And the daughter?" "Pretty. At least, Jon thought so." Jolyon's heart side-slipped again. His wife's face had a strained and puzzled look. "You didn't-?" he began. "No; but Jon knows their name. The girl dropped her handkerchief and he picked it up." Jolyon sat down on his bed. An evil chance! "June was with you. Did she put her foot into it?"
Jolyon ever wide and doubtful had no such hope. Poor June! Could any Forsyte of her generation grasp how rude and brutal life was? Ever since he knew of his boy's arrival at Cape Town the thought of him had been a kind of recurrent sickness in Jolyon. He could not get reconciled to the feeling that Jolly was in danger all the time. The cablegram, grave though it was, was almost a relief.
Old Jolyon did not see them pass; he was petting poor Holly who was tired, but those in the carriage had taken in the little group; the ladies' heads tilted suddenly, there was a spasmodic screening movement of parasols; James' face protruded naively, like the head of a long bird, his mouth slowly opening. The shield-like rounds of the parasols grew smaller and smaller, and vanished.
His words were addressed to Swithin, his eyes smiled slyly at old Jolyon; only Soames remained unsatisfied. "Remarkable for what?" "For its naivete" The answer was followed by an impressive silence; Swithin alone was not sure whether a compliment was intended.
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