The Forsyte Saga - Volume 1

He was invisible now behind his paper, which he turned with a vicious

crackle; but when June came up to kiss him, he said: "Good-night, my

darling," in a tone so tremulous and unexpected, that it was all the

girl could do to get out of the room without breaking into the fit of

sobbing which lasted her well on into the night.

When the door was closed, old Jolyon dropped his paper, and stared long

and anxiously in front of him.

'The beggar!' he thought. 'I always knew she'd have trouble with him!'

Uneasy doubts and suspicions, the more poignant that he felt himself

powerless to check or control the march of events, came crowding upon

him.

Was the fellow going to jilt her? He longed to go and say to him: "Look

here, you sir! Are you going to jilt my grand-daughter?" But how could

he? Knowing little or nothing, he was yet certain, with his unerring

astuteness, that there was something going on. He suspected Bosinney of

being too much at Montpellier Square.

'This fellow,' he thought, 'may not be a scamp; his face is not a bad

one, but he's a queer fish. I don't know what to make of him. I shall

never know what to make of him! They tell me he works like a nigger, but

I see no good coming of it. He's unpractical, he has no method. When he

comes here, he sits as glum as a monkey. If I ask him what wine he'll

have, he says: "Thanks, any wine." If I offer him a cigar, he smokes it

as if it were a twopenny German thing. I never see him looking at June

as he ought to look at her; and yet, he's not after her money. If

she were to make a sign, he'd be off his bargain to-morrow. But she

won't--not she! She'll stick to him! She's as obstinate as fate--She'll

never let go!'

Sighing deeply, he turned the paper; in its columns, perchance he might

find consolation.

And upstairs in her room June sat at her open window, where the spring

wind came, after its revel across the Park, to cool her hot cheeks and

burn her heart.