The Forsyte Saga - Volume 1

"I wish I'd never undertaken your house," said Bosinney suddenly. "You

come down here worrying me out of my life. You want double the value for

your money anybody else would, and now that you've got a house that for

its size is not to be beaten in the county, you don't want to pay for

it. If you're anxious to be off your bargain, I daresay I can find

the balance above the estimates myself, but I'm d----d if I do another

stroke of work for you!"

Soames regained his composure. Knowing that Bosinney had no capital, he

regarded this as a wild suggestion. He saw, too, that he would be kept

indefinitely out of this house on which he had set his heart, and just

at the crucial point when the architect's personal care made all the

difference. In the meantime there was Irene to be thought of! She had

been very queer lately. He really believed it was only because she had

taken to Bosinney that she tolerated the idea of the house at all. It

would not do to make an open breach with her.

"You needn't get into a rage," he said. "If I'm willing to put up with

it, I suppose you needn't cry out. All I meant was that when you tell me

a thing is going to cost so much, I like to--well, in fact, I--like to

know where I am."

"Look here!" said Bosinney, and Soames was both annoyed and surprised

by the shrewdness of his glance. "You've got my services dirt cheap. For

the kind of work I've put into this house, and the amount of time I've

given to it, you'd have had to pay Littlemaster or some other fool

four times as much. What you want, in fact, is a first-rate man for a

fourth-rate fee, and that's exactly what you've got!"

Soames saw that he really meant what he said, and, angry though he was,

the consequences of a row rose before him too vividly. He saw his house

unfinished, his wife rebellious, himself a laughingstock.

"Let's go over it," he said sulkily, "and see how the money's gone."

"Very well," assented Bosinney. "But we'll hurry up, if you don't mind.

I have to get back in time to take June to the theatre."

Soames cast a stealthy look at him, and said: "Coming to our place, I

suppose to meet her?" He was always coming to their place!

There had been rain the night before-a spring rain, and the earth smelt

of sap and wild grasses. The warm, soft breeze swung the leaves and the

golden buds of the old oak tree, and in the sunshine the blackbirds were

whistling their hearts out.