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He could not take his eyes off the dark past master what he said was so deliberate and discouraging such heavy, queer, smiled-out words. Jon was thinking of butterflies, when he heard him say: "I want to see Mr. Soames Forsyde take an interest in 'orses." "Old Soames! He's too dry a file!" With all his might Jon tried not to grow red, while the dark past master went on.
Soames stood, biting his finger. "I remember an evening " he said suddenly; and was silent. What was there what was there in this woman that would not fit into the four corners of his hate or condemnation? "Where is he your son?" "Up in his father's studio, I think." "Perhaps you'd have him down." He watched her ring the bell, he watched the maid come in. "Please tell Mr. Jon that I want him."
Almost I wished I had gone with Soames not indeed to stay in the reading-room, but to sally forth for a brisk sight-seeing walk around a new London. I wandered restlessly out of the Park I had sat in. Vainly I tried to imagine myself an ardent tourist from the eighteenth century. Intolerable was the strain of the slow-passing and empty minutes.
Leroux will walk straight up the court, into the corridor of Bank Chambers by the back entrance, and from thence out into the Strand. YOU will escort the second lady into the manager's office, and she will sign 'Mira Leroux' instead of the real Mira Leroux."... Soames became aware that he was changing color. This was a superior felony, and as such it awed his little mind.
Nothing to be had out of admitting that it had been a 'nasty jar' in the phraseology of the day. But what would happen now that both Soames and Jolyon were married again? That was very intriguing. George was known to have laid Eustace six to four on a little Jolyon before a little Soames. George was so droll!
A sensation such as he had known when going in to bat was playing now in the top of Val's chest, but he followed his mother and uncle doggedly, looking at no more than he could help, and thinking that the place smelled 'fuggy. People seemed to be lurking everywhere, and he plucked Soames by the sleeve. "I say, Uncle, you're not going to let those beastly papers in, are you?"
Then she came from the window, trailing her finger along the mahogany edge of the billiard-table. Watching her, Soames knew that she was going to ask him something. Her finger felt round the last pocket, and she looked up. "Have you done anything to stop Jon writing to me, Father?" Soames shook his head. "You haven't seen, then?" he said. "His father died just a week ago to-day." "Oh!"
A blackbird broke in on his reverie with an evening song a great big fellow up in that acacia-tree. Soames had taken quite an interest in his birds of late years; he and Fleur would walk round and watch them; her eyes were sharp as needles, and she knew every nest. He saw her dog, a retriever, lying on the drive in a patch of sunlight, and called to him. "Hallo, old fellow-waiting for her too!"
It struck him suddenly how like Gradman was to the stout brindled yard dog they had been wont to keep on his chain at The Shelter, till one day Fleur had come and insisted it should be let loose, so that it had at once bitten the cook and been destroyed. If you let Gradman off his chain, would he bite the cook? Checking this frivolous fancy, Soames unfolded his Marriage Settlement.
It was not before he had got her more than half way that he began: "Soames is very fond of you he won't have anything said against you; why don't you show him more affection?" Irene flushed, and said in a low voice: "I can't show what I haven't got."
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