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Updated: June 13, 2025
Winifred looked up at him. "To Holly Forsyte, Jolyon's daughter." "What?" "He got leave and did it. I didn't even know he knew her. Awkward, isn't it?" Soames uttered a short laugh at that characteristic minimisation. "Awkward! Well, I don't suppose they'll hear about this till they come back. They'd better stay out there. That fellow will give her money."
And what, too, would June do? This, also, was a most exciting, if dangerous speculation! They had never forgotten old Jolyon's visit, since when he had not once been to see them; they had never forgotten the feeling it gave all who were present, that the family was no longer what it had been that the family was breaking up.
To redeem a little the departed glory, as of a field that is golden and gone, clinging to a room which its master has left, Irene had placed on the paint-stained table a bowl of red roses. This, and Jolyon's favourite cat, who still clung to the deserted habitat, were the pleasant spots in that dishevelled, sad workroom.
The sight of Bosinney coming with Irene from the conservatory, with that strange look of utter absorption on his face, struck her too suddenly. They had not seen no one should see her distress, not even her grandfather. She put her hand on Jolyon's arm, and said very low: "I must go home, Gran; I feel ill." He hurried her away, grumbling to himself that he had known how it would be.
Old Jolyon's silence, his stern eyes, held them all in a kind of paralysis. He was disconcerted himself by the effect of his own words an effect which seemed to deepen the importance of the very rumour he had come to scotch; but he was still angry. He had not done with them yet No, no he would give them another rub or two.
And Jolyon's words came rushing into his mind: "I should imagine you will be glad to have your neck out of chancery." Well, he had got it out! Had he got it in again? "We must feed you up," he said, "you'll soon be strong." "Don't you want to see baby, Soames? She is asleep." "Of course," said Soames, "very much." He passed round the foot of the bed to the other side and stood staring.
Polteed remained unopened in Soames' pocket throughout two hours of sustained attention to the affairs of the 'New Colliery Company, which, declining almost from the moment of old Jolyon's retirement from the Chairmanship, had lately run down so fast that there was now nothing for it but a 'winding-up. He took the letter out to lunch at his City Club, sacred to him for the meals he had eaten there with his father in the early seventies, when James used to like him to come and see for himself the nature of his future life.
He had never committed the imprudence of marrying, or encumbering himself in any way with children. James resumed, tapping the piece of china: "This isn't real old Worcester. I s'pose Jolyon's told you something about the young man. From all I can learn, he's got no business, no income, and no connection worth speaking of; but then, I know nothing nobody tells me anything."
To-day she felt the emotion with which we read a novel describing a hero and an inheritance, nervously anxious lest, by some frightful lapse of the novelist, the young man should be left without it at the end. Her manner was warm; she had never seen so clearly before how distinguished and desirable a girl this was. She asked after old Jolyon's health.
Old Jolyon's heart gave a flutter, and for a second the room was clouded; then it cleared, and he said with a twinkle: "Who's been dressing her up?" "Mam'zelle." "Hollee! Don't be foolish!" That prim little Frenchwoman! She hadn't yet got over the music lessons being taken away from her. That wouldn't help. His little sweet was the only friend they had. Well, they were her lessons.
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