James, quick to take alarm, began: "You don't look well. I expect you've

taken a chill--it's liver, I shouldn't wonder. Your mother'll give

you...."

But Emily broke in quietly: "Have you brought Irene?"

Soames shook his head.

"No," he stammered, "she--she's left me!"

Emily deserted the mirror before which she was standing. Her tall, full

figure lost its majesty and became very human as she came running over

to Soames.

"My dear boy! My dear boy!"

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She put her lips to his forehead, and stroked his hand.

James, too, had turned full towards his son; his face looked older.

"Left you?" he said. "What d'you mean--left you? You never told me she

was going to leave you."

Soames answered surlily: "How could I tell? What's to be done?"

James began walking up and down; he looked strange and stork-like

without a coat. "What's to be done!" he muttered. "How should I know

what's to be done? What's the good of asking me? Nobody tells me

anything, and then they come and ask me what's to be done; and I should

like to know how I'm to tell them! Here's your mother, there she stands;

she doesn't say anything. What I should say you've got to do is to

follow her.."

Soames smiled; his peculiar, supercilious smile had never before looked

pitiable.

"I don't know where she's gone," he said.

"Don't know where she's gone!" said James. "How d'you mean, don't know

where she's gone? Where d'you suppose she's gone? She's gone after that

young Bosinney, that's where she's gone. I knew how it would be."

Soames, in the long silence that followed, felt his mother pressing

his hand. And all that passed seemed to pass as though his own power of

thinking or doing had gone to sleep.

His father's face, dusky red, twitching as if he were going to cry, and

words breaking out that seemed rent from him by some spasm in his soul.

"There'll be a scandal; I always said so." Then, no one saying anything:

"And there you stand, you and your mother!"

And Emily's voice, calm, rather contemptuous: "Come, now, James! Soames

will do all that he can."

And James, staring at the floor, a little brokenly: "Well, I can't help

you; I'm getting old. Don't you be in too great a hurry, my boy."

And his mother's voice again: "Soames will do all he can to get her

back. We won't talk of it. It'll all come right, I dare say."

And James: "Well, I can't see how it can come right. And if she hasn't

gone off with that young Bosinney, my advice to you is not to listen to

her, but to follow her and get her back."




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