The Forsyte Saga - Volume 1

Soames turned his back, and walked away.

James looked from Bosinney's frowning face to Irene, and, in his

agitation, spoke his thoughts aloud: "Well, I can't tell what's the

matter. Nobody tells me anything!" And, making off after his son, he

heard Bosinney's short laugh, and his "Well, thank God! You look so...."

Most unfortunately he lost the rest.

What had happened? He glanced back. Irene was very close to the

architect, and her face not like the face he knew of her. He hastened up

to his son.

Soames was pacing the picture-gallery.

"What's the matter?" said James. "What's all this?"

Soames looked at him with his supercilious calm unbroken, but James knew

well enough that he was violently angry.

"Our friend," he said, "has exceeded his instructions again, that's all.

So much the worse for him this time."

He turned round and walked back towards the door. James followed

hurriedly, edging himself in front. He saw Irene take her finger from

before her lips, heard her say something in her ordinary voice, and

began to speak before he reached them.

"There's a storm coming on. We'd better get home. We can't take you, I

suppose, Mr. Bosinney? No, I suppose not. Then, good-bye!" He held out

his hand. Bosinney did not take it, but, turning with a laugh, said:

"Good-bye, Mr. Forsyte. Don't get caught in the storm!" and walked away.

"Well," began James, "I don't know...."

But the 'sight of Irene's face stopped him. Taking hold of his

daughter-in-law by the elbow, he escorted her towards the carriage. He

felt certain, quite certain, they had been making some appointment or

other....

Nothing in this world is more sure to upset a Forsyte than the discovery

that something on which he has stipulated to spend a certain sum

has cost more. And this is reasonable, for upon the accuracy of his

estimates the whole policy of his life is ordered. If he cannot rely

on definite values of property, his compass is amiss; he is adrift upon

bitter waters without a helm.

After writing to Bosinney in the terms that have already been

chronicled, Soames had dismissed the cost of the house from his mind.

He believed that he had made the matter of the final cost so very

plain that the possibility of its being again exceeded had really never

entered his head. On hearing from Bosinney that his limit of twelve

thousand pounds would be exceeded by something like four hundred, he had

grown white with anger. His original estimate of the cost of the house

completed had been ten thousand pounds, and he had often blamed himself

severely for allowing himself to be led into repeated excesses. Over

this last expenditure, however, Bosinney had put himself completely

in the wrong. How on earth a fellow could make such an ass of himself

Soames could not conceive; but he had done so, and all the rancour and

hidden jealousy that had been burning against him for so long was now

focussed in rage at this crowning piece of extravagance. The attitude of

the confident and friendly husband was gone. To preserve property--his

wife--he had assumed it, to preserve property of another kind he lost it

now.