On Forsyte ‘Change

“Edward,” she said at last, “you seem very far away. After all, I AM your wife.”

The lever which at the moment was engaging his attention, dropped.

“Certainly, my dear!” he said, and turned towards her. She took full advantage of the movement. After all, he had other possibilities, and the evening need not be entirely wasted.

The result, Patricia, was in 1895 already twelve years old, and to her father one of his best inventions. The years had contracted his girth and increased that of his brother, now an Alderman. The aspirations of Marian had remained unfulfilled. True, Nicholas now allowed his children £500 a year apiece, and Edward was drawing £700 a year from his brother, but what was this to a comely and fashionable young matron? The sorrows of her Tweetyman seemed to her more, and to him, if anything, less noticeable than ever. For he was engaged on what he regarded as, so far, his prime invention, a species of pump for the evacuation of goods from Cross Cha

The year of 1895 will long be remembered for its weather. After opening with a frost of some two months’ duration, it broke into a passion of warmth and life which lingered on into the late autumn. A bone-shaking automobile rattled people around at the South Kensington Exhibition, bicycles were all the rage, the river Thames was covered with punts; young matrons went astray. That Marian felt the temper of the year ca

It was not till the morning of the longest day that Edward, singing like a wren in his bath, a

“Albert!” she said, “come here! I want your opinion on this clock.”

The Alderman rose. Through her lashes she could see the added flush on his fleshy face, and his quivering lips that almost seemed to slobber. He stood beside her, and with her eyes on the clock Marian pointed out its period. When exactly four minutes had elapsed her straining ears caught a sound on the stairs, and she moved awkwardly, so that her white shoulder came in contact with his chest. The rest was automatic; she found herself face to face with him, his arms round her waist and his lips inclining for her lips. She reined back and his mouth came forward, reaching for her neck. All was as it should be. Then the door opened, and there stood Patricia in her dressing-gown.

“Mummy!” came her treble cry, “Daddy’s lost his—Oh!” She vanished: and with a sensation as of vertigo Marian heard her shriller:

“Daddy, Daddy! Quick! Uncle Albert’s biting Mummy’s neck!”

Then it was that Marian showed her breeding. With inimitable presence of mind she lost it and fell on the sofa in one of those dead faints which are so difficult to see through. Edward, attended by the scared Patricia, found her with Albert standing by and ru

“Here, I say!” he said, “she’s fainted”; and with a certain aplomb, added: “It’s the heat.”

They revived her with some difficulty, and on Edward’s arm she went up to bed. Albert departed.