In Chancery

“You’ve got a capital view here, James!”

“There you are!” muttered James; “why didn’t you come before? You might have missed it!”

And he was silent, staring with all his might.

“What’s the noise?” he asked suddenly.

“There’s no noise,” returned Emily; “what are you thinking of?—they wouldn’t cheer.”

“I can hear it.”

“Nonsense, James!”

No sound came through those double panes; what James heard was the groaning in his own heart at sight of his Age passing.

“Don’t you ever tell me where I’m buried,” he said suddenly. “I shan’t want to know.” And he turned from the window. There she went, the old Queen; she’d had a lot of anxiety—she’d be glad to be out of it, he should think!

Emily took up the hair-brushes.

“There’ll be just time to brush your head,” she said, “before they come. You must look your best, James.”

“Ah!” muttered James; “they say she’s pretty.”

The meeting with his new daughter-in-law took place in the dining-room. James was seated by the fire when she was brought in. He placed, his hands on the arms of the chair and slowly raised himself. Stooping and immaculate in his frock-coat, thin as a line in Euclid, he received A

“How are you?” he said. “You’ve been to see the Queen, I suppose? Did you have a good crossing?”

In this way he greeted her from whom he hoped for a grandson of his name.

Gazing at him, so old, thin, white, and spotless, A

“Yes, yes,” he said, “you want your lunch, I expect. Soames, ring the bell; we won’t wait for that chap Dartie.” But just then they arrived. Dartie had refused to go out of his way to see ‘the old girl.’ With an early cocktail beside him, he had taken a ‘squint’ from the smoking-room of the Iseeum, so that Winifred and Imogen had been obliged to come back from the Park to fetch him thence. His brown eyes rested on A

“That Monsieur Dartie,” said A

“No, by George!” said Soames.

“Your sister is veree amiable, and the girl is pretty. Your father is veree old. I think your mother has trouble with him; I should not like to be her.”

Soames nodded at the shrewdness, the clear hard judgment in his young wife; but it disquieted him a little. The thought may have just flashed through him, too: ‘When I’m eighty she’ll be fifty-five, having trouble with me!’

“There’s just one other house of my relations I must take you to,” he said; “you’ll find it fu

In this way he prepared her for Timothy’s. But Timothy’s was different. They were delighted to see dear Soames after this long long time; and so this was A

“You are so pretty, my dear; almost too young and pretty for dear Soames, aren’t you? But he’s very attentive and careful—such a good hush…” Aunt Juley checked herself, and placed her lips just under each of A

“Feuille morte,” Francie prompted.

“Of course, dead leaves—so strange. I remember when I was a girl, before we came to London, we had a foxhound puppy—to ‘walk’ it was called then; it had a tan top to its head and a white chest, and beautiful dark brown eyes, and it was a lady.”

“Yes, auntie,” said Francie, “but I don’t see the co

“Oh!” replied Aunt Juley, rather flustered, “it was so alluring, and her eyes and hair, you know…” She was silent, as if surprised in some indelicacy. “Feuille morte,” she added suddenly; “Hester—do remember that!”…

Considerable debate took place between the two sisters whether Timothy should or should not be summoned to see A

“Oh, don’t bother!” said Soames.

“But it’s no trouble, only of course A

Hester interposed hurriedly:

“What do you think of London, A

Soames, disquieted, awaited the reply. It came, sensible, composed: “Oh! I know London. I have visited before.”

He had never ventured to speak to her on the subject of the restaurant. The French had different notions about gentility, and to shrink from co

“And what part do you know best?” said Aunt Juley.

“Soho,” said A

Soames snapped his jaw.

“Soho?” repeated Aunt Juley; “Soho?”

‘That’ll go round the family,’ thought Soames.

“It’s very French, and interesting,” he said.

“Yes,” murmured Aunt Juley, “your Uncle Roger had some houses there once; he was always having to turn the tenants out, I remember.”

Soames changed the subject to Mapledurham.

“Of course,” said Aunt Juley, “you will be going down there soon to settle in. We are all so looking forward to the time when A

“Juley!” cried Aunt Hester desperately, “ring tea!”

Soames dared not wait for tea, and took A

“I shouldn’t mention Soho if I were you,” he said in the cab. “It’s rather a shady part of London; and you’re altogether above that restaurant business now; I mean,” he added, “I want you to know nice people, and the English are fearful snobs.”

A

“Yes?” she said.

‘H’m!’ thought Soames, ‘that’s meant for me!’ and he looked at her hard. ‘She’s got good business instincts,’ he thought. ‘I must make her grasp it once for all!’

“Look here, A

“I see,” said A

“Oh!” murmured Soames, at once relieved and taken aback. “Of course, class is everything, really.”

“Yes,” said A

‘That’s all right,’ thought Soames, watching her lips, ‘only she’s pretty cynical.’ His knowledge of French was not yet such as to make him grieve that she had not said ‘tu.’ He slipped his arm round her, and murmured with an effort: