The Forsyte Saga - Volume 1

Soames looked. In spite of himself, something swelled in his breast.

To live here in sight of all this, to be able to point it out to his

friends, to talk of it, to possess it! His cheeks flushed. The warmth,

the radiance, the glow, were sinking into his senses as, four years

before, Irene's beauty had sunk into his senses and made him long

for her. He stole a glance at Bosinney, whose eyes, the eyes of the

coachman's 'half-tame leopard,' seemed running wild over the landscape.

The sunlight had caught the promontories of the fellow's face, the bumpy

cheekbones, the point of his chin, the vertical ridges above his brow;

and Soames watched this rugged, enthusiastic, careless face with an

unpleasant feeling.

A long, soft ripple of wind flowed over the corn, and brought a puff of

warm air into their faces.

"I could build you a teaser here," said Bosinney, breaking the silence

at last.

"I dare say," replied Soames, drily. "You haven't got to pay for it."

"For about eight thousand I could build you a palace."

Soames had become very pale--a struggle was going on within him. He

dropped his eyes, and said stubbornly:

"I can't afford it."

And slowly, with his mousing walk, he led the way back to the first

site.

They spent some time there going into particulars of the projected

house, and then Soames returned to the agent's cottage.

He came out in about half an hour, and, joining Bosinney, started for

the station.

"Well," he said, hardly opening his lips, "I've taken that site of

yours, after all."

And again he was silent, confusedly debating how it was that this

fellow, whom by habit he despised, should have overborne his own

decision.