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Updated: June 15, 2025
Thank goodness, the young fellow had shaved off his half-toothbrushes, and no longer looked like a mountebank! With a girl friend of Fleur's who was staying in the house, and a neighbouring youth or so, they made two couples after dinner, in the hall, to the music of the electric pianola which performed Fox-trots unassisted, with a surprised shine on its expressive surface.
If only he could get at that anonymous letter writer, he would teach the fellow not to meddle and stir up mud at the bottom of water which he wished should remain stagnant!... A distant flash, a low rumble, and large drops of rain spattered on the thatch above him. He remained indifferent, tracing a pattern with his finger on the dusty surface of a little rustic table. Fleur's future!
Jon had never loved her so much as in that minute which seemed to falsify Fleur's fears and to release his soul. He turned to look at her, but something in her smiling face something which only he perhaps would have caught stopped the words bubbling up in him. Could fear go with a smile? If so, there was fear in her face.
He saw Irene's face alive with startled feeling, gave the slightest shake of his head, and slipped his arm through Fleur's. "Come along!" he said. She did not move. "Didn't you hear, Father? Isn't it queer our name's the same. Are we cousins?" "What's that?" he said. "Forsyte? Distant, perhaps." "My name's Jolyon, sir. Jon, for short." "Oh! Ah!" said Soames. "Yes. Distant. How are you?
"I had read it, of course, before he gave it to you. It didn't quite do justice to my criminality." "Mother!" burst from Jon's lips. "He put it very sweetly, but I know that in marrying Fleur's father without love I did a dreadful thing. An unhappy marriage, Jon, can play such havoc with other lives besides one's own. You are fearfully young, my darling, and fearfully loving.
From what I have seen of Mrs. Drane, I think she is a very sensible woman, and under the circumstances probably expects some discomforts." "But that is not all that is to be considered," said her husband. "La Fleur's dissatisfaction, which is very evident, must be taken into the question. She has a scheming mind.
He saw Irene's face alive with startled feeling, gave the slightest shake of his head, and slipped his arm through Fleur's. "Come along!" he said. She did not move. "Didn't you hear, Father? Isn't it queer our name's the same. Are we cousins?" "What's that?" he said. "Forsyte? Distant, perhaps." "My name's Jolyon, sir. Jon, for short." "Oh! Ah!" said Soames. "Yes. Distant. How are you?
The saying had permanently undermined the confidence necessary to the success of spoken untruth. He listened therefore to Fleur's swift and rapt allusions to the jolliness of everything, plied her with scones and jam, and got away as soon as might be. They say that in delirium tremens you see a fixed object, preferably dark, which suddenly changes shape and position.
When Jon rushed away with the letter in his hand, he ran along the terrace and round the corner of the house, in fear and confusion. Leaning against the creepered wall he tore open the letter. It was long very long! This added to his fear, and he began reading. When he came to the words: "It was Fleur's father that she married," everything seemed to spin before him.
And now this anonymous ruffian, with nothing to gain, apparently, save the venting of his spite against foreigners, had wrenched it out of the obscurity in which he had hoped and wished it would remain. To have such knowledge forced on him, at his time of life, about Fleur's mother!
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