The Forsyte Saga - Volume 1

"The house, of course, should be built entirely of stone, but, as I

thought you wouldn't stand that, I've compromised for a facing. It ought

to have a copper roof, but I've made it green slate. As it is, including

metal work, it'll cost you eight thousand five hundred."

"Eight thousand five hundred?" said Soames. "Why, I gave you an outside

limit of eight!"

"Can't be done for a penny less," replied Bosinney coolly.

"You must take it or leave it!"

It was the only way, probably, that such a proposition could have been

made to Soames. He was nonplussed. Conscience told him to throw the

whole thing up. But the design was good, and he knew it--there was

completeness about it, and dignity; the servants' apartments were

excellent too. He would gain credit by living in a house like that--with

such individual features, yet perfectly well-arranged.

He continued poring over the plans, while Bosinney went into his bedroom

to shave and dress.

The two walked back to Montpellier Square in silence, Soames watching

him out of the corner of his eye.

The Buccaneer was rather a good-looking fellow--so he thought--when he

was properly got up.

Irene was bending over her flowers when the two men came in.

She spoke of sending across the Park to fetch June.

"No, no," said Soames, "we've still got business to talk over!"

At lunch he was almost cordial, and kept pressing Bosinney to eat. He

was pleased to see the architect in such high spirits, and left him

to spend the afternoon with Irene, while he stole off to his pictures,

after his Sunday habit. At tea-time he came down to the drawing-room,

and found them talking, as he expressed it, nineteen to the dozen.

Unobserved in the doorway, he congratulated himself that things were

taking the right turn. It was lucky she and Bosinney got on; she seemed

to be falling into line with the idea of the new house.

Quiet meditation among his pictures had decided him to spring the

five hundred if necessary; but he hoped that the afternoon might have

softened Bosinney's estimates. It was so purely a matter which Bosinney

could remedy if he liked; there must be a dozen ways in which he could

cheapen the production of a house without spoiling the effect.

He awaited, therefore, his opportunity till Irene was handing the

architect his first cup of tea. A chink of sunshine through the lace of

the blinds warmed her cheek, shone in the gold of her hair, and in her

soft eyes. Possibly the same gleam deepened Bosinney's colour, gave the

rather startled look to his face.