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Updated: June 22, 2025
To the slow, swinging measure they danced by, and it seemed to him that they clung to each other; he saw her raise her eyes, soft and dark, to Bosinney's, and drop them again.
He saw Bosinney's body lying in that white mortuary, and Irene sitting on the sofa looking at her picture with the eyes of a dying bird. Again he thought of her by the little green Niobe in the Bois de Boulogne, once more rejecting him.
She took the vase of roses and left the room. Soames remained seated. Was it for this that he had signed that contract? Was it for this that he was going to spend some ten thousand pounds? Bosinney's phrase came back to him: "Women are the devil!" But presently he grew calmer. It might have, been worse. She might have flared up. He had expected something more than this.
He stood stubbornly by the cab step, waiting for her to come back. He knew a trick worth two of that! Winifred was already in her cab. Dartie reflected that Bosinney would have a poorish time in that cab if he didn't look sharp! Suddenly he received a push which nearly overturned him in the road. Bosinney's voice hissed in his ear: "I am taking Irene back; do you understand?"
The accounts were already prepared on a folding table, and with a nod Soames sat down to study them. It was some time before he raised his head. "I can't make them out," he said at last; "they come to nearly seven hundred more than they ought." After a glance at Bosinney's face he went on quickly: "If you only make a firm stand against these builder chaps you'll get them down.
The hour was midnight, and no Forsytes remained abroad in the streets to spy out Bosinney's wanderings; to see him return and stand against the rails of the Square garden, back from the glow of the street lamp; to see him stand there in the shadow of trees, watching the house where in the dark was hidden she whom he would have given the world to see for a single minute she who was now to him the breath of the lime-trees, the meaning of the light and the darkness, the very beating of his own heart.
The forces underlying every tragedy forces that take no denial, working through cross currents to their ironical end, had met and fused with a thunder-clap, flung out the victim, and flattened to the ground all those that stood around. Or so at all events young Jolyon seemed to see them, lying around Bosinney's body.
This was as near as he could get, in conversation with Emily, to a description of the peculiar exasperation, velvetiness, and mockery, of which Bosinney's manner had been composed.
Why hadn't June come to Irene, as she usually did, and it occurred to him suddenly that he had seen nothing of June for a long time now. Watching her face with idle malice, he saw it change, grow so pale that he thought she would drop, then flame out crimson. Turning to see at what she was looking, he saw his wife on Bosinney's arm, coming from the conservatory at the end of the room.
You have a "free hand" in the terms of this correspondence, and I hope you will see your way to completing the decorations, in the matter of which I know it is difficult to be absolutely exact. 'Yours truly, Bosinney's answer, which came in the course of the next day, was: 'May 20. 'Very well. Old Jolyon disposed of his second Meeting an ordinary Board summarily.
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