The Forsyte Saga - Complete. John Galsworthy

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      Swithin said he should go back to lunch at Timothy's, and he offered to take anybody with him in his brougham. It was considered a doubtful privilege to drive with Swithin in his brougham, which was not a large one; nobody accepted, and he went off alone. James and Roger followed immediately after; they also would drop in to lunch. The others gradually melted away, Old Jolyon taking three nephews to fill up his carriage; he had a want of those young faces.

      Soames, who had to arrange some details in the cemetery office, walked away with Bosinney. He had much to talk over with him, and, having finished his business, they strolled to Hampstead, lunched together at the Spaniard's Inn, and spent a long time in going into practical details connected with the building of the house; they then proceeded to the tram-line, and came as far as the Marble Arch, where Bosinney went off to Stanhope Gate to see June.

      Soames felt in excellent spirits when he arrived home, and confided to Irene at dinner that he had had a good talk with Bosinney, who really seemed a sensible fellow; they had had a capital walk too, which had done his liver good—he had been short of exercise for a long time—and altogether a very satisfactory day. If only it hadn't been for poor Aunt Ann, he would have taken her to the theatre; as it was, they must make the best of an evening at home.

      “The Buccaneer asked after you more than once,” he said suddenly. And moved by some inexplicable desire to assert his proprietorship, he rose from his chair and planted a kiss on his wife's shoulder.

PART II

       Table of Contents

CHAPTER I—PROGRESS OF THE HOUSE

       Table of Contents

      The winter had been an open one. Things in the trade were slack; and as Soames had reflected before making up his mind, it had been a good time for building. The shell of the house at Robin Hill was thus completed by the end of April.

      Now that there was something to be seen for his money, he had been coming down once, twice, even three times a week, and would mouse about among the debris for hours, careful never to soil his clothes, moving silently through the unfinished brickwork of doorways, or circling round the columns in the central court.

      And he would stand before them for minutes' together, as though peering into the real quality of their substance.

      On April 30 he had an appointment with Bosinney to go over the accounts, and five minutes before the proper time he entered the tent which the architect had pitched for himself close to the old oak tree.

      The accounts were already prepared on a folding table, and with a nod Soames sat down to study them. It was some time before he raised his head.

      “I can't make them out,” he said at last; “they come to nearly seven hundred more than they ought.”

      After a glance at Bosinney's face he went on quickly:

      “If you only make a firm stand against these builder chaps you'll get them down. They stick you with everything if you don't look sharp. … Take ten per cent. off all round. I shan't mind it's coming out a hundred or so over the mark!”

      Bosinney shook his head:

      “I've taken off every farthing I can!”

      Soames pushed back the table with a movement of anger, which sent the account sheets fluttering to the ground.

      “Then all I can say is,” he flustered out, “you've made a pretty mess of it!”

      “I've told you a dozen times,” Bosinney answered sharply, “that there'd be extras. I've pointed them out to you over and over again!”

      “I know that,” growled Soames: “I shouldn't have objected to a ten pound note here and there. How was I to know that by 'extras' you meant seven hundred pounds?”

      The qualities of both men had contributed to this not-inconsiderable discrepancy. On the one hand, the architect's devotion to his idea, to the image of a house which he had created and believed in—had made him nervous of being stopped, or forced to the use of makeshifts; on the other, Soames' not less true and wholehearted devotion to the very best article that could be obtained for the money, had rendered him averse to believing that things worth thirteen shillings could not be bought with twelve.

      “I wish I'd never undertaken your house,” said Bosinney suddenly. “You come down here worrying me out of my life. You want double the value for your money anybody else would, and now that you've got a house that for its size is not to be beaten in the county, you don't want to pay for it. If you're anxious to be off your bargain, I daresay I can find the balance above the estimates myself, but I'm d——d if I do another stroke of work for you!”

      Soames regained his composure. Knowing that Bosinney had no capital, he regarded this as a wild suggestion. He saw, too, that he would be kept indefinitely out of this house on which he had set his heart, and just at the crucial point when the architect's personal care made all the difference. In the meantime there was Irene to be thought of! She had been very queer lately. He really believed it was only because she had taken to Bosinney that she tolerated the idea of the house at all. It would not do to make an open breach with her.

      “You needn't get into a rage,” he said. “If I'm willing to put up with it, I suppose you needn't cry out. All I meant was that when you tell me a thing is going to cost so much, I like to—well, in fact, I—like to know where I am.”

      “Look here!” said Bosinney, and Soames was both annoyed and surprised by the shrewdness of his glance. “You've got my services dirt cheap. For the kind of work I've put into this house, and the amount of time I've given to it, you'd have had to pay Littlemaster or some other fool four times as much. What you want, in fact, is a first-rate man for a fourth-rate fee, and that's exactly what you've got!”

      Soames saw that he really meant what he said, and, angry though he was, the consequences of a row rose before him too vividly. He saw his house unfinished, his wife rebellious, himself a laughingstock.

      “Let's go over it,” he said sulkily, “and see how the money's gone.”

      “Very well,” assented Bosinney. “But we'll hurry up, if you don't mind. I have to get back in time to take June to the theatre.”

      Soames cast a stealthy look at him, and said: “Coming to our place, I suppose to meet her?” He was always coming to their place!

      There had been rain the night before-a spring rain, and the earth smelt of sap and wild grasses. The warm, soft breeze swung the leaves and the golden buds of the old oak tree, and in the sunshine the blackbirds were whistling their hearts out.

      It was such a spring day as breathes into a man an ineffable yearning, a painful sweetness, a longing that makes him stand motionless, looking at the leaves or grass, and fling out his arms to embrace he knows not what. The earth gave forth a fainting warmth, stealing up through the chilly garment in which winter had wrapped her. It was her long caress of invitation, to draw men down СКАЧАТЬ