The Forsyte Saga - Volume 1

Soames hated sunshine, and he at once got up, to draw the blind. Then he

took his own cup of tea from his wife, and said, more coldly than he had

intended:

"Can't you see your way to do it for eight thousand after all? There

must be a lot of little things you could alter."

Bosinney drank off his tea at a gulp, put down his cup, and answered:

"Not one!"

Soames saw that his suggestion had touched some unintelligible point of

personal vanity.

"Well," he agreed, with sulky resignation; "you must have it your own

way, I suppose."

A few minutes later Bosinney rose to go, and Soames rose too, to see him

off the premises. The architect seemed in absurdly high spirits. After

watching him walk away at a swinging pace, Soames returned moodily to

the drawing-room, where Irene was putting away the music, and, moved by

an uncontrollable spasm of curiosity, he asked:

"Well, what do you think of 'The Buccaneer'?"

He looked at the carpet while waiting for her answer, and he had to wait

some time.

"I don't know," she said at last.

"Do you think he's good-looking?"

Irene smiled. And it seemed to Soames that she was mocking him.

"Yes," she answered; "very."