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His china-blue eyes under white eyebrows that jutted out in little horns, never stirred; the long upper lip of his wide mouth, between the fine white whiskers, twitched once or twice; it was easy to see from that anxious rapt expression, whence Soames derived the handicapped look which sometimes came upon his face. James might have been saying to himself: ‘I don’t know—life’s a tough job.’
In this position Bosi
James brought his eyes down from whatever bird’s-nest they had been looking for in the sky to Bosi
“How do you do, Mr. Forsyte? Come down to see for yourself?”
It was exactly what James, as we know, had come for, and he was made correspondingly uneasy. He held out his hand, however, saying:
“How are you?” without looking at Bosi
The latter made way for him with an ironical smile.
James scented something suspicious in this courtesy. “I should like to walk round the outside first,” he said, “and see what you’ve been doing!”
A flagged terrace of rounded stones with a list of two or three inches to port had been laid round the south-east and south-west sides of the house, and ran with a bevelled edge into mould, which was in preparation for being turfed; along this terrace James led the way.
“Now what did this cost?” he asked, when he saw the terrace extending round the corner.
“What should you think?” inquired Bosi
“How should I know?” replied James somewhat nonplussed; “two or three hundred, I dare say!”
“The exact sum!”
James gave him a sharp look, but the architect appeared unconscious, and he put the answer down to mishearing.
On arriving at the garden entrance, he stopped to look at the view.
“That ought to come down,” he said, pointing to the oak-tree.
“You think so? You think that with the tree there you don’t get enough view for your money.”
Again James eyed him suspiciously—this young man had a peculiar way of putting things: “Well!” he said, with a perplexed, nervous, emphasis, “I don’t see what you want with a tree.”
“It shall come down to-morrow,” said Bosi
James was alarmed. “Oh,” he said, “don’t go saying I said it was to come down! I know nothing about it!”
“No?”
James went on in a fluster: “Why, what should I know about it? It’s nothing to do with me! You do it on your own responsibility.”
“You’ll allow me to mention your name?”
James grew more and more alarmed: “I don’t know what you want mentioning my name for,” he muttered; “you’d better leave the tree alone. It’s not your tree!”
He took out a silk handkerchief and wiped his brow. They entered the house. Like Swithin, James was impressed by the i
“You must have spent a douce of a lot of money here,” he said, after staring at the columns and gallery for some time. “Now, what did it cost to put up those columns?”
“I can’t tell you off-hand,” thoughtfully answered Bosi
“I should think so,” said James. “I should…” He caught the architect’s eye, and broke off. And now, whenever he came to anything of which he desired to know the cost, he stifled that curiosity.
Bosi
He grew discouraged; he seemed no nearer to anything, had not obtained from his inspection any of the knowledge he had vaguely hoped for. He had merely increased his dislike and mistrust of this young man, who had tired him out with his politeness, and in whose ma
The fellow was sharper than he had thought, and better-looking than he had hoped. He had a—a ‘don’t care’ appearance that James, to whom risk was the most intolerable thing in life, did not appreciate; a peculiar smile, too, coming when least expected; and very queer eyes. He reminded James, as he said afterwards, of a hungry cat. This was as near as he could get, in conversation with Emily, to a description of the peculiar exasperation, velvetiness, and mockery, of which Bosi
At last, having seen all that was to be seen, he came out again at the door where he had gone in; and now, feeling that he was wasting time and strength and money, all for nothing, he took the courage of a Forsyte in both hands, and, looking sharply at Bosi
“I dare say you see a good deal of my daughter-in-law; now, what does she think of the house? But she hasn’t seen it, I suppose?”
This he said, knowing all about Irene’s visit not, of course, that there was anything in the visit, except that extraordinary remark she had made about ‘not caring to get home’—and the story of how June had taken the news!
He had determined, by this way of putting the question, to give Bosi
The latter was long in answering, but kept his eyes with uncomfortable steadiness on James.
“She has seen the house, but I can’t tell you what she thinks of it.”
Nervous and baffled, James was constitutionally prevented from letting the matter drop.
“Oh!” he said, “she has seen it? Soames brought her down, I suppose?”
Bosi
“What, did she come down alone?”
“Oh, no!”
“Then—who brought her?”
“I really don’t know whether I ought to tell you who brought her.”
To James, who knew that it was Swithin, this answer appeared incomprehensible.
“Why!” he stammered, “you know that…” but he stopped, suddenly perceiving his danger.
“Well,” he said, “if you don’t want to tell me I suppose you won’t! Nobody tells me anything.”
Somewhat to his surprise Bosi
“By the by,” he said, “could you tell me if there are likely to be any more of you coming down? I should like to be on the spot!”
“Any more?” said James bewildered, “who should there be more? I don’t know of any more. Good-bye?”
Looking at the ground he held out his hand, crossed the palm of it with Bosi
Before he turned the corner he glanced back, and saw Bosi
Outside the drive, and out of sight, he slackened his pace still more. Very slowly, more bent than when he came, lean, hungry, and disheartened, he made his way back to the station.
The Buccaneer, watching him go so sadly home, felt sorry perhaps for his behaviour to the old man.