If old Jolyon, as he got into his cab, had said: 'I won't believe a word

of it!' he would more truthfully have expressed his sentiments.

The notion that James and his womankind had seen him in the company of

his son had awakened in him not only the impatience he always felt when

crossed, but that secret hostility natural between brothers, the roots

of which--little nursery rivalries--sometimes toughen and deepen as life

goes on, and, all hidden, support a plant capable of producing in season

the bitterest fruits.

Hitherto there had been between these six brothers no more unfriendly

feeling than that caused by the secret and natural doubt that the others

might be richer than themselves; a feeling increased to the pitch of

curiosity by the approach of death--that end of all handicaps--and the

great 'closeness' of their man of business, who, with some sagacity,

would profess to Nicholas ignorance of James' income, to James ignorance

of old Jolyon's, to Jolyon ignorance of Roger's, to Roger ignorance of

Swithin's, while to Swithin he would say most irritatingly that Nicholas

must be a rich man. Timothy alone was exempt, being in gilt-edged

securities.

But now, between two of them at least, had arisen a very different sense

of injury. From the moment when James had the impertinence to pry into

his affairs--as he put it--old Jolyon no longer chose to credit this

story about Bosinney. His grand-daughter slighted through a member of

'that fellow's' family! He made up his mind that Bosinney was maligned.

There must be some other reason for his defection.

June had flown out at him, or something; she was as touchy as she could

be!

He would, however, let Timothy have a bit of his mind, and see if he

would go on dropping hints! And he would not let the grass grow under

his feet either, he would go there at once, and take very good care that

he didn't have to go again on the same errand.

He saw James' carriage blocking the pavement in front of 'The Bower.' So

they had got there before him--cackling about having seen him, he dared

say! And further on, Swithin's greys were turning their noses towards

the noses of James' bays, as though in conclave over the family, while

their coachmen were in conclave above.

Old Jolyon, depositing his hat on the chair in the narrow hall, where

that hat of Bosinney's had so long ago been mistaken for a cat, passed

his thin hand grimly over his face with its great drooping white

moustaches, as though to remove all traces of expression, and made his

way upstairs.




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