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However suspiciously regarded, he still frequented Winifred's evergreen little house in Green Street, with a good-natured obtuseness which no one mistook for naivete, a word hardly applicable to Monsieur Prosper Profond.

Dartie," and saw that there was no longer any empty place. That fellow was sitting between Annette and Imogen. Soames ate steadily on, with an occasional word to Maud and Winifred. Conversation buzzed around him. He heard the voice of Profond say: "I think you're mistaken, Mrs. Forsyde; I'll I'll bet Miss Forsyde agrees with me." "In what?" came Fleur's clear voice across the table.

"Who were those?" Jon asked on the stairs: "I didn't quite " "Old George Forsyte is a first cousin of your father's, and of my uncle Soames. He's always been here. The other chap, Profond, is a queer fish. I think he's hanging round Soames' wife, if you ask me!" Jon looked at him, startled. "But that's awful," he said: "I mean for Fleur."

He had heard peasant proprietors described as a pig-headed lot; had heard young Mont call his father a pigheaded Morning Poster disrespectful young devil. Well, there were worse things than being pig-headed or reading the Morning Post. There was Profond and his tribe, and all these Labour chaps, and loud-mouthed politicians and 'wild, wild women'! A lot of worse things!

And the worst of it was that this shadow had been at the back of his mind ever since the Sunday evening when Fleur had pointed down at Prosper Profond strolling on the lawn, and said: "Prowling cat!" Had he not in connection therewith, this very day, perused his Will and Marriage Settlement?

She felt a sudden hunger for Jon's face, for his hands, and the feel of his lips again on hers. And pressing her arms tight across her breast she forced out a little light laugh. "O la! la! What a small fuss! as Profond would say. Father, I don't like that man." She saw him stop, and take something out of his breast pocket. "You don't?" he said. "Why?" "Nothing," murmured Fleur; "just caprice!"

Why can't they exclude fellows like Profond, instead of a lot of hard-working Germans? and was surprised at the depth of uneasiness which could provoke so unpatriotic a thought. But there it was! One never got a moment of real peace. There was always something at the back of everything! And he made his way toward Green Street.

Her brother's "little girl" Fleur frankly puzzled Winifred. The child was as restless as any of these modern young women "She's a small flame in a draught," Prosper Profond had said one day after dinner but she did not flap, or talk at the top of her voice.

In Green Street Winifred stood to receive, just a little less composed than usual. Soames' request for the use of her house had come on her at a deeply psychological moment. Under the influence of a remark of Prosper Profond, she had begun to exchange her Empire for Expressionistic furniture.

Subduing a natural irritation, he said: "Are you a judge of pictures?" "Well, I've got a few myself." "Any Post-Impressionists?" "Ye-es, I rather like them." "What do you think of this?" said Soames, pointing to the Gauguin. Monsieur Profond protruded his lower lip and short pointed beard. "Rather fine, I think," he said; "do you want to sell it?"