"To the Poultry," he called through the trap. In front of the Houses of
Parliament and in Whitehall, newsvendors were calling, "Grave situation
in the Transvaal!" but the cries hardly roused him, absorbed in
recollection of that very beautiful figure, of her soft dark glance, and
the words: "I have never had one since." What on earth did such a woman
do with her life, back-watered like this? Solitary, unprotected, with
every man's hand against her or rather--reaching out to grasp her at the
least sign. And year after year she went on like that!
The word 'Poultry' above the passing citizens brought him back to
reality.
'Forsyte, Bustard and Forsyte,' in black letters on a ground the colour
of peasoup, spurred him to a sort of vigour, and he went up the stone
stairs muttering: "Fusty musty ownerships! Well, we couldn't do without
them!"
"I want Mr. Soames Forsyte," he said to the boy who opened the door.
"What name?"
"Mr. Jolyon Forsyte."
The youth looked at him curiously, never having seen a Forsyte with a
beard, and vanished.
The offices of 'Forsyte, Bustard and Forsyte' had slowly absorbed the
offices of 'Tooting and Bowles,' and occupied the whole of the first
floor.
The firm consisted now of nothing but Soames and a number of managing
and articled clerks. The complete retirement of James some six years
ago had accelerated business, to which the final touch of speed had been
imparted when Bustard dropped off, worn out, as many believed, by the
suit of 'Fryer versus Forsyte,' more in Chancery than ever and less
likely to benefit its beneficiaries. Soames, with his saner grasp of
actualities, had never permitted it to worry him; on the contrary, he
had long perceived that Providence had presented him therein with L200 a
year net in perpetuity, and--why not?
When Jolyon entered, his cousin was drawing out a list of holdings in
Consols, which in view of the rumours of war he was going to advise his
companies to put on the market at once, before other companies did the
same. He looked round, sidelong, and said:
"How are you? Just one minute. Sit down, won't you?" And having entered
three amounts, and set a ruler to keep his place, he turned towards
Jolyon, biting the side of his flat forefinger....
"Yes?" he said.
"I have seen her."
Soames frowned.
"Well?"
"She has remained faithful to memory."
Having said that, Jolyon was ashamed. His cousin had flushed a dusky
yellowish red. What had made him tease the poor brute!
"I was to tell you she is sorry you are not free. Twelve years is a long
time. You know your law, and what chance it gives you." Soames uttered
a curious little grunt, and the two remained a full minute without
speaking. 'Like wax!' thought Jolyon, watching that close face, where
the flush was fast subsiding. 'He'll never give me a sign of what he's
thinking, or going to do. Like wax!' And he transferred his gaze to a
plan of that flourishing town, 'By-Street on Sea,' the future existence
of which lay exposed on the wall to the possessive instincts of the
firm's clients. The whimsical thought flashed through him: 'I wonder if
I shall get a bill of costs for this--"To attending Mr. Jolyon Forsyte
in the matter of my divorce, to receiving his account of his visit to
my wife, and to advising him to go and see her again, sixteen and
eightpence."'