Of Bosinney himself Baynes would speak warmly, with a certain

compassion: "He's got a streak of his father's Byronism. Why, look at

the way he threw up his chances when he left my office; going off like

that for six months with a knapsack, and all for what?--to study foreign

architecture--foreign! What could he expect? And there he is--a clever

young fellow--doesn't make his hundred a year! Now this engagement is

the best thing that could have happened--keep him steady; he's one

of those that go to bed all day and stay up all night, simply because

they've no method; but no vice about him--not an ounce of vice. Old

Forsyte's a rich man!"

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Mr. Baynes made himself extremely pleasant to June, who frequently

visited his house in Lowndes Square at this period.

"This house of your cousin's--what a capital man of business--is the

very thing for Philip," he would say to her; "you mustn't expect to see

too much of him just now, my dear young lady. The good cause--the good

cause! The young man must make his way. When I was his age I was at work

day and night. My dear wife used to say to me, 'Bobby, don't work too

hard, think of your health'; but I never spared myself!"

June had complained that her lover found no time to come to Stanhope

Gate.

The first time he came again they had not been together a quarter of an

hour before, by one of those coincidences of which she was a mistress,

Mrs. Septimus Small arrived. Thereon Bosinney rose and hid himself,

according to previous arrangement, in the little study, to wait for her

departure.

"My dear," said Aunt Juley, "how thin he is! I've often noticed it

with engaged people; but you mustn't let it get worse. There's Barlow's

extract of veal; it did your Uncle Swithin a lot of good."

June, her little figure erect before the hearth, her small face

quivering grimly, for she regarded her aunt's untimely visit in the

light of a personal injury, replied with scorn:

"It's because he's busy; people who can do anything worth doing are

never fat!"

Aunt Juley pouted; she herself had always been thin, but the only

pleasure she derived from the fact was the opportunity of longing to be

stouter.

"I don't think," she said mournfully, "that you ought to let them call

him 'The Buccaneer'; people might think it odd, now that he's going

to build a house for Soames. I do hope he will be careful; it's so

important for him. Soames has such good taste!"

"Taste!" cried June, flaring up at once; "wouldn't give that for his

taste, or any of the family's!"




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