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Trembling like a man with an ague, he lay there, breathing in short, staccato breaths, and clutching the pistol in his pocket. Certainly he had made no great noise, but... Nothing stirred. Soames summoned up courage to rise and to approach again the door of Block A. Without further mishap he reached it, opened it, and entered the blackness of the corridor.
He knew women; they weren't made with soft eyes and figures like that for nothing, as that fellow Soames would jolly soon find out, if there were anything in what he had heard about this Buccaneer Johnny.
The boy had got it from George Forsyte, he believed, who had seen Bosinney in the fog the day he was run over something which explained the young fellow's distress an act of Soames towards his wife a shocking act. Jo had seen her, too, that afternoon, after the news was out, seen her for a moment, and his description had always lingered in old Jolyon's mind 'wild and lost' he had called her.
MacAnder, looking airily round, said: "Oh! and whom do you think I passed to-day in Richmond Park? You'll never guess Mrs. Soames and Mr. Bosinney. They must have been down to look at the house!" Winifred Dartie coughed, and no one said a word. It was the piece of evidence they had all unconsciously been waiting for. To do Mrs.
Soames did not say "Je m'en fiche" it was French, and the fellow was a thorn in his side but deep down he knew that change was only the interval of death between two forms of life, destruction necessary to make room for fresher property. What though the board was up, and cosiness to let? some one would come along and take it again some day.
"I tried it on that one-way heat conductor," said Soames. "I can't duplicate it. But I've designed something that will mean nearly but not quite what their cooking-pot does. Take a look at this." He spread out the completed diagram of the first thing he'd worked on. It was quite clear. He'd helped design the meteor-watch radar at Gissell Bay, and his use of electronic symbols was normal.
He hoped they were making that chap Profond run. And the girl in "La Vendimia" stood with her arm akimbo and her dreamy eyes looking past him. 'I've done all I could for you, he thought, 'since you were no higher than my knee. You aren't going to to hurt me, are you? But the Goya copy answered not, brilliant in colour just beginning to tone down. 'There's no real life in it, thought Soames.
Soames, soon after the divorce, married Fleur's mother, and she was born. That is the story, Jon. I have told it you, because by the affection which we see you have formed for this man's daughter you are blindly moving toward what must utterly destroy your mother's happiness, if not your own.
Many people, no doubt, including the editor of the 'Ultra Vivisectionist, then in the bloom of its first youth, would say that Soames was less than a man not to have removed the locks from his wife's doors, and, after beating her soundly, resumed wedded happiness.
If one gazed continuously at any portion of the wall, the intertwined figures thereon took shape nay, took life; the intricate, elaborate design ceased to be a design, and became a procession, a saturnalia; became a sinister comedy, which, when first visualized, shocked Soames immoderately.