to move at all.

When he was gone, and she heard the water in the bath running, she put
out a complete set of garments on the bed in his dressing-room, then
went downstairs and fetched up the biscuit box and whisky. Putting on
her coat again, and listening a moment at the bathroom door, she went
down and out. In the street she hesitated. Past seven o'clock! Would
Soames be at his Club or at Park Lane? She turned towards the latter.
Back!

Soames had always feared it--she had sometimes hoped it.... Back! So
like him--clown that he was--with this: 'Here we are again!' to make
fools of them all--of the Law, of Soames, of herself!

Yet to have done with the Law, not to have that murky cloud hanging over
her and the children! What a relief! Ah! but how to accept his return?
That 'woman' had ravaged him, taken from him passion such as he had
never bestowed on herself, such as she had not thought him capable of.
There was the sting! That selfish, blatant 'clown' of hers, whom she
herself had never really stirred, had been swept and ungarnished by
another woman! Insulting! Too insulting! Not right, not decent to take
him back! And yet she had asked for him; the Law perhaps would make
her now! He was as much her husband as ever--she had put herself out of
court! And all he wanted, no doubt, was money--to keep him in cigars and
lavender-water! That scent! 'After all, I'm not old,' she thought, 'not
old yet!' But that woman who had reduced him to those words: 'I've been
through it. I've been frightened--frightened, Freddie!' She neared her
father's house, driven this way and that, while all the time the Forsyte
undertow was drawing her to deep conclusion that after all he was her
property, to be held against a robbing world. And so she came to James'.

"Mr. Soames? In his room? I'll go up; don't say I'm here."

Her brother was dressing. She found him before a mirror, tying a black
bow with an air of despising its ends.

"Hullo!" he said, contemplating her in the glass; "what's wrong?"

"Monty!" said Winifred stonily.

Soames spun round. "What!"

"Back!"

"Hoist," muttered Soames, "with our own petard. Why the deuce didn't you
let me try cruelty? I always knew it was too much risk this way."

"Oh! Don't talk about that! What shall I do?"

Soames answered, with a deep, deep sound.

"Well?" said Winifred impatiently.

"What has he to say for himself?"

"Nothing. One of his boots is split across the toe."

Soames s