The Forsyte Saga John Galsworthy (hot novels to read TXT) đ
- Author: John Galsworthy
Book online «The Forsyte Saga John Galsworthy (hot novels to read TXT) đ». Author John Galsworthy
Mr. Baynes made himself extremely pleasant to June, who frequently visited his house in Lowndes Square at this period.
âThis house of your cousinâsâ âwhat a capital man of businessâ âis the very thing for Philip,â he would say to her; âyou mustnât expect to see too much of him just now, my dear young lady. The good causeâ âthe good cause! The young man must make his way. When I was his age I was at work day and night. My dear wife used to say to me, âBobby, donât work too hard, think of your health.â but I never spared myself!â
June had complained that her lover found no time to come to Stanhope Gate.
The first time he came again they had not been together a quarter of an hour before, by one of those coincidences of which she was a mistress, Mrs. Septimus Small arrived. Thereon Bosinney rose and hid himself, according to previous arrangement, in the little study, to wait for her departure.
âMy dear,â said Aunt Juley, âhow thin he is! Iâve often noticed it with engaged people; but you mustnât let it get worse. Thereâs Barlowâs extract of veal; it did your Uncle Swithin a lot of good.â
June, her little figure erect before the hearth, her small face quivering grimly, for she regarded her auntâs untimely visit in the light of a personal injury, replied with scorn:
âItâs because heâs busy; people who can do anything worth doing are never fat!â
Aunt Juley pouted; she herself had always been thin, but the only pleasure she derived from the fact was the opportunity of longing to be stouter.
âI donât think,â she said mournfully, âthat you ought to let them call him âThe Buccaneer.â people might think it odd, now that heâs going to build a house for Soames. I do hope he will be careful; itâs so important for him. Soames has such good taste!â
âTaste!â cried June, flaring up at once; âwouldnât give that for his taste, or any of the familyâs!â
Mrs. Small was taken aback.
âYour Uncle Swithin,â she said, âalways had beautiful taste! And Soamesâ little house is lovely; you donât mean to say you donât think so!â
âHâmph!â said June, âthatâs only because Ireneâs there!â
Aunt Juley tried to say something pleasant:
âAnd how will dear Irene like living in the country?â
June gazed at her intently, with a look in her eyes as if her conscience had suddenly leaped up into them; it passed; and an even more intent look took its place, as if she had stared that conscience out of countenance. She replied imperiously:
âOf course sheâll like it; why shouldnât she?â
Mrs. Small grew nervous.
âI didnât know,â she said; âI thought she mightnât like to leave her friends. Your Uncle James says she doesnât take enough interest in life. We thinkâ âI mean Timothy thinksâ âshe ought to go out more. I expect youâll miss her very much!â
June clasped her hands behind her neck.
âI do wish,â she cried, âUncle Timothy wouldnât talk about what doesnât concern him!â
Aunt Juley rose to the full height of her tall figure.
âHe never talks about what doesnât concern him,â she said.
June was instantly compunctious; she ran to her aunt and kissed her.
âIâm very sorry, auntie; but I wish theyâd let Irene alone.â
Aunt Juley, unable to think of anything further on the subject that would be suitable, was silent; she prepared for departure, hooking her black silk cape across her chest, and, taking up her green reticule:
âAnd how is your dear grandfather?â she asked in the hall, âI expect heâs very lonely now that all your time is taken up with Mr. Bosinney.â
She bent and kissed her niece hungrily, and with little, mincing steps passed away.
The tears sprang up in Juneâs eyes; running into the little study, where Bosinney was sitting at the table drawing birds on the back of an envelope, she sank down by his side and cried:
âOh, Phil! itâs all so horrid!â Her heart was as warm as the colour of her hair.
On the following Sunday morning, while Soames was shaving, a message was brought him to the effect that Mr. Bosinney was below, and would be glad to see him. Opening the door into his wifeâs room, he said:
âBosinneyâs downstairs. Just go and entertain him while I finish shaving. Iâll be down in a minute. Itâs about the plans, I expect.â
Irene looked at him, without reply, put the finishing touch to her dress and went downstairs. He could not make her out about this house. She had said nothing against it, and, as far as Bosinney was concerned, seemed friendly enough.
From the window of his dressing-room he could see them talking together in the little court below. He hurried on with his shaving, cutting his chin twice. He heard them laugh, and thought to himself: âWell, they get on all right, anyway!â
As he expected, Bosinney had come round to fetch him to look at the plans.
He took his hat and went over.
The plans were spread on the oak table in the architectâs room; and pale, imperturbable, inquiring, Soames bent over them for a long time without speaking.
He said at last in a puzzled voice:
âItâs an odd sort of house!â
A rectangular house of two stories was designed in a quadrangle round a covered-in court. This court, encircled by a gallery on the upper floor, was roofed with a glass roof, supported by eight columns running up from the ground.
It was indeed, to Forsyte eyes, an odd house.
âThereâs a lot of room cut to waste,â pursued Soames.
Bosinney began to walk about, and Soames did not like the expression on his face.
âThe principle of this house,â said the architect, âwas that you should have room to breatheâ âlike a gentleman!â
Soames extended his finger and thumb, as if measuring the extent of the distinction he should acquire; and replied:
âOh! yes; I see.â
The peculiar look came into Bosinneyâs face which marked all his enthusiasms.
âIâve tried to plan you a house here with
Comments (0)