The Forsyte Saga - Volume 1

Dartie recoiled; he saw as plainly as possible that the fellow meant it.

In the space he made Irene had slipped by, her dress brushed his legs.

Bosinney stepped in after her.

"Go on!" he heard the Buccaneer cry. The cabman flicked his horse. It

sprang forward.

Dartie stood for a moment dumbfounded; then, dashing at the cab where

his wife sat, he scrambled in.

"Drive on!" he shouted to the driver, "and don't you lose sight of that

fellow in front!"

Seated by his wife's side, he burst into imprecations. Calming himself

at last with a supreme effort, he added: "A pretty mess you've made of

it, to let the Buccaneer drive home with her; why on earth couldn't you

keep hold of him? He's mad with love; any fool can see that!"

He drowned Winifred's rejoinder with fresh calls to the Almighty; nor

was it until they reached Barnes that he ceased a Jeremiad, in the

course of which he had abused her, her father, her brother, Irene,

Bosinney, the name of Forsyte, his own children, and cursed the day when

he had ever married.

Winifred, a woman of strong character, let him have his say, at the end

of which he lapsed into sulky silence. His angry eyes never deserted

the back of that cab, which, like a lost chance, haunted the darkness in

front of him.

Fortunately he could not hear Bosinney's passionate pleading--that

pleading which the man of the world's conduct had let loose like a

flood; he could not see Irene shivering, as though some garment had

been torn from her, nor her eyes, black and mournful, like the eyes of a

beaten child. He could not hear Bosinney entreating, entreating, always

entreating; could not hear her sudden, soft weeping, nor see that poor,

hungry-looking devil, awed and trembling, humbly touching her hand.

In Montpellier Square their cabman, following his instructions to the

letter, faithfully drew up behind the cab in front. The Darties saw

Bosinney spring out, and Irene follow, and hasten up the steps with

bent head. She evidently had her key in her hand, for she disappeared

at once. It was impossible to tell whether she had turned to speak to

Bosinney.

The latter came walking past their cab; both husband and wife had an

admirable view of his face in the light of a street lamp. It was working

with violent emotion.

"Good-night, Mr. Bosinney!" called Winifred.

Bosinney started, clawed off his hat, and hurried on. He had obviously

forgotten their existence.

"There!" said Dartie, "did you see the beast's face? What did I say?

Fine games!" He improved the occasion.