”Yes，guilty。”ItwasIrenespeakinginthatserenevoice，withthatunreachedairwhichhadmaddenedhimsooften；and，carriedbeyondhimself，hecried：”Youareadevil””Goout！Leavethishouse，orI’lldoyouaninjury。”Thatfellowtotalkofinjuries！Didheknowhownearhisthroatwastobeingscragged?”Atrustee，”hesaid，”embezzlingtrustproperty！Athief，stealinghiscousin’swife。””Callmewhatyoulike。Youhavechosenyourpart，wehavechosenours。Goout！”
　　IfhehadbroughtaweaponSoamesmighthaveuseditatthatmoment。”I’llmakeyoupay！”hesaid。”Ishallbeveryhappy。”
　　Atthatdeadlyturningofthemeaningofhisspeechbythesonofhimwhohadnicknamedhim’themanofproperty，’Soamesstoodglaring。Itwasridiculous！
　　Theretheywere，keptfromviolencebysomesecretforce。Noblowpossible，nowordstomeetthecase。Buthecouldnot，didnotknowhowtoturnandgoaway。HiseyesfastenedonIrene’sface——
　　thelasttimehewouldeverseethatfatalface——thelasttime，nodoubt！”You，”hesaidsuddenly，”Ihopeyou’lltreathimasyoutreatedme——that’sall。”
　　Hesawherwince，andwithasensationnotquitetriumph，notquiterelief，hewrenchedopenthedoor，passedoutthroughthehall，andgotintohiscab。Helolledagainstthecushionwithhiseyesshut。Neverinhislifehadhebeensoneartomurderousviolence，neversothrownawaytherestraintwhichwashissecondnature。Hehadastrippedandnakedfeeling，asifallvirtuehadgoneoutofhim——lifemeaningless，mind-strikingwork。Sunlightstreamedinonhim，buthefeltcold。Thescenehehadpassedthroughhadgonefromhimalready，whatwasbeforehimwouldnotmaterialise，hecouldcatchontonothing；andhefeltfrightened，asifhehadbeenhangingovertheedgeofaprecipice，asifwithanotherturnofthescrewsanitywouldhavefailedhim。’I’mnotfitforit，’
　　hethought；’Imustn’t——I’mnotfitforit。’Thecabspedon，andinmechanicalprocessiontrees，houses，peoplepassed，buthadnosignificance。’Ifeelveryqueer，’hethought；’I’lltakeaTurkishbath——I’vebeenveryneartosomething。Itwon’tdo。’
　　Thecabwhirreditswaybackoverthebridge，uptheFulhamRoad，alongthePark。”TotheHammam，”saidSoames。
　　Curiousthatonsowarmasummerday，heatshouldbesocomforting！
　　CrossingintothehotroomhemetGeorgeForsytecomingout，redandglistening。”Hallo！”saidGeorge；”whatareyoutrainingfor?You’venotgotmuchsuperfluous。”
　　Buffoon！Soamespassedhimwithhissidewaysmile。Lyingback，rubbinghisskinuneasilyforthefirstsignsofperspiration，hethought：’Letthemlaugh！Iwon’tfeelanything！Ican’tstandviolence！It’snotgoodforme！’
　　CHAPTERVII
　　ASUMMERNIGHT
　　Soamesleftdeadsilenceinthelittlestudy。”Thankyouforthatgoodlie，”saidJolyonsuddenly。”Comeout——theairinhereisnotwhatitwas！”
　　Infrontofalonghighsoutherlywallonwhichweretrainedpeach-treesthetwowalkedupanddowninsilence。OldJolyonhadplantedsomecupressus-trees，atintervals，betweenthisgrassyterraceandthedippingmeadowfullofbuttercupsandox-eyeddaisies；fortwelveyearstheyhadflourished，tilltheirdarkspiralshapeshadquitealookofItaly。Birdsflutteredsoftlyinthewetshrubbery；theswallowsswoopedpast，withasteel-bluesheenontheirswiftlittlebodies；thegrassfeltspringybeneaththefeet，itsgreenrefreshed；butterflieschasedeachother。
　　AfterthatpainfulscenethequietofNaturewaswonderfullypoignant。Underthesun-soakedwallrananarrowstripofgarden-bedfullofmignonetteandpansies，andfromthebeescamealowhuminwhichallothersoundswereset——themooingofacowdeprivedofhercalf，thecallingofacuckoofromanelm-treeatthebottomofthemeadow。Whowouldhavethoughtthatbehindthem，withintenmiles，Londonbegan——thatLondonoftheForsytes，withitswealth，itsmisery；itsdirtandnoise；itsjumbledstoneislesofbeauty，itsgreyseaofhideousbrickandstucco?ThatLondonwhichhadseenIrene’searlytragedy，andJolyon’sownharddays；
　　thatweb；thatprincelyworkhouseofthepossessiveinstinct！
　　AndwhiletheywalkedJolyonponderedthosewords：’Ihopeyou’lltreathimasyoutreatedme。’Thatwoulddependonhimself。Couldhetrusthimself?DidNaturepermitaForsytenottomakeaslaveofwhatheadored?Couldbeautybeconfidedtohim?Orshouldshenotbejustavisitor，comingwhenshewould，possessedformomentswhichpassed，toreturnonlyatherownchoosing?’Weareabreedofspoilers！’thoughtJolyon，’closeandgreedy；thebloomoflifeisnotsafewithus。Lethercometomeasshewill，whenshewill，notatallifshewillnot。Letmebejustherstand-by，herperching-place；never-neverhercage！’
　　Shewasthechinkofbeautyinhisdream。Washetopassthroughthecurtainsnowandreachher?Wastherichstuffofmanypossessions，thecloseencirclingfabricofthepossessiveinstinctwallinginthatlittleblackfigureofhimself，andSoames——wasittoberentsothathecouldpassthroughintohisvision，findtheresomethingnotofthesensesonly?’Letme，’hethought，’ah！
　　letmeonlyknowhownottograspanddestroy！’
　　Butatdinnertherewereplanstobemade。To-nightshewouldgobacktothehotel，buttomorrowhewouldtakeheruptoLondon。Hemustinstructhissolicitor——JackHerring。NotafingermustberaisedtohindertheprocessoftheLaw。Damagesexemplary，judicialstrictures，costs，whattheyliked——letitgothroughatthefirstmoment，sothatherneckmightbeoutofchanceryatlast！To-morrowhewouldseeHerring——theywouldgoandseehimtogether。Andthen——abroad，leavingnodoubt，nodifficultyaboutevidence，makingthelieshehadtoldintothetruth。Helookedroundather；anditseemedtohisadoringeyesthatmorethanawomanwassittingthere。Thespiritofuniversalbeauty，deep，mysterious，whichtheoldpainters，Titian，Giorgione，Botticelli，hadknownhowtocaptureandtransfertothefacesoftheirwomen——
　　thisflyingbeautyseemedtohimimprintedonherbrow，herhair，herlips，andinhereyes。
　　’Andthisistobemine！’hethought。’Itfrightensme！’
　　Afterdinnertheywentoutontotheterracetohavecoffee。Theysattherelong，theeveningwassolovely，watchingthesummernightcomeveryslowlyon。Itwasstillwarmandtheairsmelledoflimeblossom——earlythissummer。Twobatswereflightingwiththefaintmysteriouslittlenoisetheymake。Hehadplacedthechairsinfrontofthestudywindow，andmothsflewpasttovisitthediscreetlightinthere。Therewasnowind，andnotawhisperintheoldoak-treetwentyyardsaway！Themoonrosefrombehindthecopse，nearlyfull；andthetwolightsstruggled，tillmoonlightconquered，changingthecolourandqualityofallthegarden，stealingalongtheflagstones，reachingtheirfeet，climbingup，changingtheirfaces。”Well，”saidJolyonatlast，”you’llbetired，dear；we’dbetterstart。ThemaidwillshowyouHolly’sroom，”andherangthestudybell。Themaidwhocamehandedhimatelegram。WatchinghertakeIreneaway，hethought：’Thismusthavecomeanhourormoreago，andshedidn’tbringitouttous！Thatshows！Well，we’llbehungforasheepsoon！’And，openingthetelegram，heread：”JOLYONFORSYTE，RobinHill——YoursonpassedpainlesslyawayonJune20th。Deepsympathy”——somenameunknowntohim。
　　Hedroppedit，spunround，stoodmotionless。Themoonshoneinonhim；amothflewinhisface。ThefirstdayofallthathehadnotthoughtalmostceaselesslyofJolly。Hewentblindlytowardsthewindow，struckagainsttheoldarmchair——hisfather’s——andsankdownontothearmofit。Hesattherehuddled’forward，staringintothenight。Goneoutlikeacandleflame；farfromhome，fromlove，allbyhimself，inthedark！Hisboy！Fromalittlechapalwayssogoodtohim——sofriendly！Twentyyearsold，andcutdownlikegrass——tohavenolifeatall！’Ididn’treallyknowhim，’hethought，’andhedidn’tknowme；butwelovedeachother。It’sonlylovethatmatters。’
　　Todieoutthere——lonely——wantingthem——wantinghome！ThisseemedtohisForsyteheartmorepainful，morepitifulthandeathitself。
　　Noshelter，noprotection，noloveatthelast！Andallthedeeplyrootedclanshipinhim，thefamilyfeelingandessentialclingingtohisownfleshandbloodwhichhadbeensostronginoldJolyonwassostronginalltheForsytes——feltoutraged，cut，andtornbyhisboy’slonelypassing。Betterfarifhehaddiedinbattle，withouttimetolongforthemtocometohim，tocalloutforthem，perhaps，inhisdelirium！
　　Themoonhadpassedbehindtheoak-treenow，endowingitwithuncannylife，sothatitseemedwatchinghim——theoak-treehisboyhadbeensofondofclimbing，outofwhichhehadoncefallenandhurthimself，andhadn’tcried！
　　Thedoorcreaked。HesawIrenecomein，pickupthetelegramandreadit。Heheardthefaintrustleofherdress。Shesankonherkneesclosetohim，andheforcedhimselftosmileather。Shestretchedupherarmsanddrewhisheaddownonhershoulder。Theperfumeandwarmthofherencircledhim；herpresencegainedslowlyhiswholebeing。
　　CHAPTERVIII
　　JAMESINWAITING
　　Sweatedtoserenity，SoamesdinedattheRemoveandturnedhisfacetowardParkLane。Hisfatherhadbeenunwelllately。Thiswouldhavetobekeptfromhim！NevertillthatmomenthadherealisedhowmuchthedreadofbringingJames’greyhairsdownwithsorrowtothegravehadcountedwithhim；howintimatelyitwasboundupwithhisownshrinkingfromscandal。Hisaffectionforhisfather，alwaysdeep，hadincreasedoflateyearswiththeknowledgethatJameslookedonhimastherealpropofhisdecline。Itseemedpitifulthatonewhohadbeensocarefulallhislifeanddonesomuchforthefamilyname——sothatitwasalmostabywordforsolid，wealthyrespectability——shouldathislastgasphavetoseeitinallthenewspapers。ThiswaslikelendingahandtoDeath，thatfinalenemyofForsytes。’Imusttellmother，’hethought，’andwhenitcomeson，wemustkeepthepapersfromhimsomehow。Heseeshardlyanyone。’Lettinghimselfinwithhislatchkey，hewasbeginningtoascendhestairswhenhebecameconsciousofcommotiononthesecond-floorlanding。Hismother’svoicewassaying：”Now，James，you’llcatchcold。Whycan’tyouwaitquietly?”
　　Hisfather’sanswering”Wait?I’malwayswaiting。Whydoesn’thecomein?””Youcanspeaktohimto-morrowmorning，insteadofmakingaguyofyourselfonthelanding。””He’llgouptobed，Ishouldn’twonder。Ishan’tsleep。””Nowcomebacktobed，James。””Um！Imightdiebeforeto-morrowmorningforallyoucantell。””Youshan’thavetowaittillto-morrowmorning；I’llgodownandbringhimup。Don’tfuss！””Thereyougo——alwayssocock-a-hoop。Hemayn’tcomeinatall。””Well，ifhedoesn’tcomeinyouwon’tcatchhimbystandingouthereinyourdressing-gown。”