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Updated: June 17, 2025
Mr. Treffry waved it from him: "Not for me," he said: "Wish I could! They won't let me look at it." And walking over, to the window with a heavy tread, which trembled like his voice, he sat down. There was something in his gait like the movements of an elephant's hind legs. There was something at once vast and unobtrusive about his personality.
Chris," he said, "glad to see you." In a blue flannel gown, with a rug over his feet, he was lying on a couch lengthened artificially by chairs; the arm he reached out issued many inches from its sleeve, and showed the corded veins of the wrist. Christian, settling his pillows, looked anxiously into his eyes. "I'm not quite the thing, Chris," said Mr. Treffry. "Somehow, not quite the thing.
Harz considering...." "Considering that I've no money! Always money!" To this sneer Mr. Treffry made no answer, clucking to his horses. "My niece was born and bred a lady," he said at last. "I ask you plainly What position have you got to give her?" "If she marries me," said Harz, "she comes into my world. You think that I'm a common...." Mr.
He nodded, and Christian read the letter, leaving out the mention of Harz, and for some undefined reason the part about Sarelli. "Ay!" said Mr. Treffry with a feeble laugh, "Greta and her money! Send her some more, Chris. Wish I were a youngster again; that's a beast of a proverb about a dog and his day. I'd like to go fishing again in the West Country! A fine time we had when we were youngsters.
He had even thought of standing for Parliament. How often had not Nicholas Treffry said to him: "You could do anything, Jo, if you weren't so d-damned careful of yourself!" Dear old Nick! Such a good fellow, but a racketty chap! The notorious Treffry! He had never taken any care of himself. So he was dead.
Harz, by forty miles; it's long odds we don't get there so, don't spoil sport!" He pointed to the left. Harz caught the glint of steel. They were already crossing the railway. The sigh of the telegraph wires fluttered above them. "Hear 'em," said Mr. Treffry, "but if we get away up the mountains, we'll do yet!" They had begun to rise, the speed slackened. Mr. Treffry rummaged out a flask.
The clock suddenly stopped ticking, and outside, in mysterious accord, the pigeons rose with a great fluttering of wings, and flew off'. Mr. Treffry made a startled, heavy movement. He tried to get on to his feet and reach the bell, but could not, and sat on the side of the couch with drops of sweat rolling off his forehead, and his hands clawing his chest.
He drank again. Mrs. Decie took up the candle. "Men!" she said with a mysterious intonation; shrugging her shoulders, she walked out. Mr. Treffry put down his glass. 'Understand? he thought; 'no, you don't, and I don't. Who understands a young girl? Vapourings, dreams, moonshine I.... What does she see in this painter fellow? I wonder! He breathed heavily. 'By heavens!
But someone at the Club, after seeing him drive his greys up to the door he always drove grey horses, you got more style for the money, some thought had called him 'Four-in-hand Forsyte. The name having reached his ears through that fellow Nicholas Treffry, old Jolyon's dead partner, the great driving man notorious for more carriage accidents than any man in the kingdom Swithin had ever after conceived it right to act up to it.
"Well, then, I hate to be wrapped in cotton wool; I want to breathe. If I come to grief, it's my own affair; nobody need mind." Mr. Treffry's fingers sought his beard. "Ah! yes. Just so!" Christian sank on her knees. "Oh! Uncle! I'm a selfish beast!" Mr. Treffry laid his hand against her cheek. "I think I could do with a nap," he said. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she stole out of the room.
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