No sooner, however, had they established themselves in Stanhope Gate
than he perceived to his dismay a return of her old absorbed and
brooding manner. She would sit, staring in front of her, her chin on her
hand, like a little Norse spirit, grim and intent, while all around in
the electric light, then just installed, shone the great, drawing-room
brocaded up to the frieze, full of furniture from Baple and Pullbred's.
And in the huge gilt mirror were reflected those Dresden china groups
of young men in tight knee breeches, at the feet of full-bosomed ladies
nursing on their laps pet lambs, which old Jolyon had bought when he was
a bachelor and thought so highly of in these days of degenerate taste.
He was a man of most open mind, who, more than any Forsyte of them all,
had moved with the times, but he could never forget that he had bought
these groups at Jobson's, and given a lot of money for them. He often
said to June, with a sort of disillusioned contempt:
"You don't care about them! They're not the gimcrack things you and your
friends like, but they cost me seventy pounds!" He was not a man who
allowed his taste to be warped when he knew for solid reasons that it
was sound.
One of the first things that June did on getting home was to go round to
Timothy's. She persuaded herself that it was her duty to call there, and
cheer him with an account of all her travels; but in reality she went
because she knew of no other place where, by some random speech, or
roundabout question, she could glean news of Bosinney.
They received her most cordially: And how was her dear grandfather? He
had not been to see them since May. Her Uncle Timothy was very poorly,
he had had a lot of trouble with the chimney-sweep in his bedroom; the
stupid man had let the soot down the chimney! It had quite upset her
uncle.
June sat there a long time, dreading, yet passionately hoping, that they
would speak of Bosinney.
But paralyzed by unaccountable discretion, Mrs. Septimus Small let fall
no word, neither did she question June about him. In desperation the
girl asked at last whether Soames and Irene were in town--she had not
yet been to see anyone.
It was Aunt Hester who replied: Oh, yes, they were in town, they had not
been away at all. There was some little difficulty about the house, she
believed. June had heard, no doubt! She had better ask her Aunt Juley!
June turned to Mrs. Small, who sat upright in her chair, her hands
clasped, her face covered with innumerable pouts. In answer to the
girl's look she maintained a strange silence, and when she spoke it was
to ask June whether she had worn night-socks up in those high hotels
where it must be so cold of a night.