The Forsyte Saga - Volume 1

The winter had been an open one. Things in the trade were slack; and as

Soames had reflected before making up his mind, it had been a good time

for building. The shell of the house at Robin Hill was thus completed by

the end of April.

Now that there was something to be seen for his money, he had been

coming down once, twice, even three times a week, and would mouse about

among the debris for hours, careful never to soil his clothes, moving

silently through the unfinished brickwork of doorways, or circling round

the columns in the central court.

And he would stand before them for minutes' together, as though peering

into the real quality of their substance.

On April 30 he had an appointment with Bosinney to go over the accounts,

and five minutes before the proper time he entered the tent which the

architect had pitched for himself close to the old oak tree.

The accounts were already prepared on a folding table, and with a nod

Soames sat down to study them. It was some time before he raised his

head.

"I can't make them out," he said at last; "they come to nearly seven

hundred more than they ought."

After a glance at Bosinney's face he went on quickly:

"If you only make a firm stand against these builder chaps you'll get

them down. They stick you with everything if you don't look sharp....

Take ten per cent. off all round. I shan't mind it's coming out a

hundred or so over the mark!"

Bosinney shook his head:

"I've taken off every farthing I can!"

Soames pushed back the table with a movement of anger, which sent the

account sheets fluttering to the ground.

"Then all I can say is," he flustered out, "you've made a pretty mess of

it!"

"I've told you a dozen times," Bosinney answered sharply, "that there'd

be extras. I've pointed them out to you over and over again!"

"I know that," growled Soames: "I shouldn't have objected to a ten pound

note here and there. How was I to know that by 'extras' you meant seven

hundred pounds?"

The qualities of both men had contributed to this not-inconsiderable

discrepancy. On the one hand, the architect's devotion to his idea, to

the image of a house which he had created and believed in--had made him

nervous of being stopped, or forced to the use of makeshifts; on the

other, Soames' not less true and wholehearted devotion to the very best

article that could be obtained for the money, had rendered him averse to

believing that things worth thirteen shillings could not be bought with

twelve.