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The butler asked whether Mrs. Soames was in the cab, the master had told him they were both expected to dinner. Soames answered: "No. Mrs. Forsyte has a cold." The butler was sorry. Soames thought he was looking at him inquisitively, and remembering that he was not in dress clothes, asked: "Anybody here to dinner, Warmson?" "Nobody but Mr. and Mrs. Dartie, sir."
Soames hung his hat on a mahogany stag's-horn. "All right, Warmson, you can go to bed; I'll take him up myself." And he passed into the dining-room. James was sitting before the fire, in a big armchair, with a camel-hair shawl, very light and warm, over his frock-coated shoulders, on to which his long white whiskers drooped.
Warmson, not without a sense of humour, opened the door beyond the stag's-horn coat stand, with the words: "Mr. Valerus, ma'am." "Confound him!" thought Val, entering. A warm embrace, a "Well, Val!" from Emily, and a rather quavery "So there you are at last!" from James, restored his sense of dignity. "Why didn't you let us know? There's only saddle of mutton. Champagne, Warmson," said Emily.
Just as it would surely have been endorsed by that wider body of Forsytes all over London, who were merely excluded from judgment by ignorance of the story. In spite then of Emily's efforts, the dinner was served by Warmson and the footman almost in silence. Dartie was sulky, and drank all he could get; the girls seldom talked to each other at any time.
"Look here, Warmson, you go to the inner cellar, and on the middle shelf of the end bin on the left you'll see seven bottles; take the one in the centre, and don't shake it. It's the last of the Madeira I had from Mr. Jolyon when we came in here never been moved; it ought to be in prime condition still; but I don't know, I can't tell." "Very good, sir," responded the withdrawing Warmson.
'Poor old chap, he's as thin as a rail! And lowering his voice while his grandfather and Warmson were in discussion about sugar in the soup, he said to Emily: "It's pretty brutal at home, Granny. I suppose you know." "Yes, dear boy." "Uncle Soames was there when I left. I say, isn't there anything to be done to prevent a divorce? Why is he so beastly keen on it?"
"She she was always...." he said, and with that enigmatic remark the conversation lapsed, for Warmson had returned.
The butler ceased passing a hat brush over the silk hat Soames had taken off, and, inclining his face a little forward, said in a low voice: "Well, sir, they 'aven't a chance, of course; but I'm told they're very good shots. I've got a son in the Inniskillings." "You, Warmson? Why, I didn't know you were married." "No, sir. I don't talk of it. I expect he'll be going out."
And making Warmson bring him an early cup of coffee; he stole out of the house before the hour of breakfast. He walked rapidly to one of those small West End streets where Polteed's and other firms ministered to the virtues of the wealthier classes. Hitherto he had always had Polteed to see him in the Poultry; but he well knew their address, and reached it at the opening hour.
I'll see him myself tomorrow." They were touched by this declaration, and Emily said comfortably: "That's right, James, we won't have any nonsense." "Ah!" muttered James darkly, "I can't tell." The advent of Warmson with fish diverted conversation.
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