Write a note asking him to lunch here with Francie
to-day week.
But all she said was:I hope it hasnt made your head
ache, James. Soames in hisnightshirt, at the head of the stairs, and down below,
that fellowWarmson.
Well, Mater, you know jolly well its awfully out of
date. And, suddenly, he mumbled: Well, have it your ownway, then.
Roger, if that is where ragouts originallycame
from.
What on earth is that great picture on the stairs,
James?
Do you know where that young fellow
lives?
But thiswas not enough to make him thankful that
his Flora would not lethim compromise her. Dont be silly, Cicely, said Emily; go and
play your piece. She still slept at Princes Gate, but hada studio in the purlieus of
Chelsea. They all were,indeed, except among themselves. When he returned, rather
late, the Hondekoeter was hung.
His Flora laughed:George, how naughty you are!
London wasnt what it used to be,with horses slipping about all over the
place.
He went up to hisbedroom, and tearing off his
clothes, flung himself into bed. No one spoke, except Fifine,who said: La, la! Among
many others, the whole Forsyte family were sent cards ofinvitation written by
Francie. It was more than dark, but he could just see thehouse. The furrow between
James brows increased in depth.
Have it put up in the lumber-room, James, said
Emily, quietly.
But, of course, Pater thought a bargain excused
everything.
Dyou mean to tell me, he said, when Cicely shut the
piano, thatyou dont like those Dresden vases? And, squatting on the grass, dry as
tinder, he gazed up. Emily was in the drawing-room when he went in.
How Irene detested that woman, and no wonder!