The Forsyte Saga - Volume 1

Soames, the unconscious ironist, fixed his gaze on Bosinney's tie, which

was far from being in the perpendicular; he was unshaven too, and his

dress not remarkable for order. Architecture appeared to have exhausted

his regularity.

"Won't it look like a barrack?" he inquired.

He did not at once receive a reply.

"I can see what it is," said Bosinney, "you want one of Littlemaster's

houses--one of the pretty and commodious sort, where the servants will

live in garrets, and the front door be sunk so that you may come up

again. By all means try Littlemaster, you'll find him a capital fellow,

I've known him all my life!"

Soames was alarmed. He had really been struck by the plans, and the

concealment of his satisfaction had been merely instinctive. It was

difficult for him to pay a compliment. He despised people who were

lavish with their praises.

He found himself now in the embarrassing position of one who must pay a

compliment or run the risk of losing a good thing. Bosinney was just the

fellow who might tear up the plans and refuse to act for him; a kind of

grown-up child!

This grown-up childishness, to which he felt so superior, exercised a

peculiar and almost mesmeric effect on Soames, for he had never felt

anything like it in himself.

"Well," he stammered at last, "it's--it's, certainly original."

He had such a private distrust and even dislike of the word 'original'

that he felt he had not really given himself away by this remark.

Bosinney seemed pleased. It was the sort of thing that would please a

fellow like that! And his success encouraged Soames.

"It's--a big place," he said.

"Space, air, light," he heard Bosinney murmur, "you can't live like a

gentleman in one of Littlemaster's--he builds for manufacturers."

Soames made a deprecating movement; he had been identified with a

gentleman; not for a good deal of money now would he be classed with

manufacturers. But his innate distrust of general principles

revived. What the deuce was the good of talking about regularity and

self-respect? It looked to him as if the house would be cold.

"Irene can't stand the cold!" he said.

"Ah!" said Bosinney sarcastically. "Your wife? She doesn't like the

cold? I'll see to that; she shan't be cold. Look here!" he pointed, to

four marks at regular intervals on the walls of the court. "I've given

you hot-water pipes in aluminium casings; you can get them with very

good designs."

Soames looked suspiciously at these marks.

"It's all very well, all this," he said, "but what's it going to cost?"

The architect took a sheet of paper from his pocket: