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Updated: April 30, 2025
When he was born, Winifred, in the heyday of spirits, and the craving for distinction, had determined that her children should have names such as no others had ever had. It so happened that Dartie, dining with him a week after the birth of his son and heir, had mentioned this aspiration of Winifred's. "Call him Cato," said George, "it'll be damned piquant!"
Montague Dartie, Poste Restante, Buenos Aires. I should hurry up with the steps, if I were you. He fairly fed me up last night." "Yes," said Soames; "but it's not always easy." Then, conscious from George's eyes that he had roused reminiscence of his own affair, he got up, and held out his hand. George rose too.
I wonder what this filly's like? He anticipated no pleasure from her society; and suddenly he saw her standing there looking at him. Why, she was pretty! What luck! "I'm afraid you don't know me," he said. "My name's Val Dartie I'm once removed, second cousin, something like that, you know. My mother's name was Forsyte."
Soames gave her another look. What had she picked up? Had her Aunt Winifred, or Imogen, or Val Dartie and his wife, been talking? Every breath of the old scandal had been carefully kept from her at home, and Winifred warned many times that he wouldn't have a whisper of it reach her for the world. So far as she ought to know, he had never been married before.
She had been there five-and-forty years and Smither three-and-forty! And now they would be going to a tiny house in Tooting, to live on their savings and what Miss Hester had so kindly left them for to take fresh service after the glorious past No! But they would like just to see Mr. Soames again, and Mrs. Dartie, and Miss Francie, and Miss Euphemia.
Then on the terrace the buzz broke out once more, and Dartie thought: 'Ah! he's a poor, hungry-looking devil, that Bosinney! and again he pressed himself against Irene. The movement deserved a better success. She rose, and they all followed her. The man of the world was more than ever determined to see what she was made of. Along the terrace he kept close at her elbow.
In the unsettled state of the country as full a house as could be expected. Mrs. Val Dartie, who sat with her husband in the third row, squeezed his hand more than once during the performance. To her, who knew the plot of this tragi-comedy, its most dramatic moment was well-nigh painful. 'I wonder if Jon knows by instinct, she thought Jon, out in British Columbia.
Living as he does, from hand to mouth, nothing is too good for him to eat; and he will eat it. His drink, too, will need to be carefully provided; there is much drink in this country 'not good enough' for a Dartie; he will have the best. Paying for things vicariously, there is no reason why he should stint himself. To stint yourself is the mark of a fool, not of a Dartie. The best of everything!
Val Dartie, after twenty years of South Africa, had fallen deeply in love, fortunately with something of her own, for the object of her passion was the prospect in front of her windows, the cool clear light on the green Downs. It was England again, at last! England more beautiful than she had dreamed.
With every minute before Emily came back the spectre fiercened. Why, it might be forgery! With eyes fixed on the doubted Turner in the centre of the wall, James suffered tortures. He saw Dartie in the dock, his grandchildren in the gutter, and himself in bed. He saw the doubted Turner being sold at Jobson's, and all the majestic edifice of property in rags.
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