The Forsyte Saga - Volume 1

And how he had called in at Jobson's, and seen a Boucher sold, which he

had just missed buying of Talleyrand and Sons in Pall Mall.

He had an admiration for Boucher, Watteau, and all that school. It was a

habit with him to tell her all these matters, and he continued to do it

even now, talking for long spells at dinner, as though by the volubility

of words he could conceal from himself the ache in his heart.

Often, if they were alone, he made an attempt to kiss her when she said

good-night. He may have had some vague notion that some night she would

let him; or perhaps only the feeling that a husband ought to kiss his

wife. Even if she hated him, he at all events ought not to put himself

in the wrong by neglecting this ancient rite.

And why did she hate him? Even now he could not altogether believe it.

It was strange to be hated!--the emotion was too extreme; yet he hated

Bosinney, that Buccaneer, that prowling vagabond, that night-wanderer.

For in his thoughts Soames always saw him lying in wait--wandering. Ah,

but he must be in very low water! Young Burkitt, the architect, had seen

him coming out of a third-rate restaurant, looking terribly down in the

mouth!

During all the hours he lay awake, thinking over the situation,

which seemed to have no end--unless she should suddenly come to her

senses--never once did the thought of separating from his wife seriously

enter his head....

And the Forsytes! What part did they play in this stage of Soames'

subterranean tragedy?

Truth to say, little or none, for they were at the sea.

From hotels, hydropathics, or lodging-houses, they were bathing daily;

laying in a stock of ozone to last them through the winter.

Each section, in the vineyard of its own choosing, grew and culled and

pressed and bottled the grapes of a pet sea-air.

The end of September began to witness their several returns.

In rude health and small omnibuses, with considerable colour in their

cheeks, they arrived daily from the various termini. The following

morning saw them back at their vocations.

On the next Sunday Timothy's was thronged from lunch till dinner.

Amongst other gossip, too numerous and interesting to relate, Mrs.

Septimus Small mentioned that Soames and Irene had not been away.

It remained for a comparative outsider to supply the next evidence of

interest.

It chanced that one afternoon late in September, Mrs. MacAnder, Winifred

Dartie's greatest friend, taking a constitutional, with young Augustus

Flippard, on her bicycle in Richmond Park, passed Irene and Bosinney

walking from the bracken towards the Sheen Gate.