or nothing! Married life with her for years and
years without a child. Nothing to steady her! She's too young. Nothing
to look forward to, for her--for me! For me!' He struck his hands
against his chest! Why couldn't he think without bringing himself
in--get out of himself and see what he ought to do? The thought hurt
him, then lost edge, as if it had come in contact with a breastplate.
Out of oneself! Impossible! Out into soundless, scentless, touchless,
sightless space! The very idea was ghastly, futile! And touching there
the bedrock of reality, the bottom of his Forsyte spirit, Soames rested
for a moment. When one ceased, all ceased; it might go on, but there'd
be nothing in it!

He looked at his watch. In half an hour the doctor would be back. He
must decide! If against the operation and she died, how face her mother
and the doctor afterwards? How face his own conscience? It was his child
that she was having. If for the operation--then he condemned them both
to childlessness. And for what else had he married her but to have a
lawful heir? And his father--at death's door, waiting for the news!
'It's cruel!' he thought; 'I ought never to have such a thing to settle!
It's cruel!' He turned towards the house. Some deep, simple way of
deciding! He took out a coin, and put it back. If he spun it, he knew he
would not abide by what came up! He went into the dining-room, furthest
away from that room whence the sounds issued. The doctor had said there
was a chance. In here that chance seemed greater; the river did not
flow, nor the leaves fall. A fire was burning. Soames unlocked the
tantalus. He hardly ever touched spirits, but now--he poured himself
out some whisky and drank it neat, craving a faster flow of blood. 'That
fellow Jolyon,' he thought; 'he had children already. He has the woman I
really loved; and now a son by her! And I--I'm asked to destroy my only
child! Annette can't die; it's not possible. She's strong!'

He was still standing sullenly at the sideboard when he heard the
doctor's carriage, and went out to him. He had to wait for him to come
downstairs.

"Well, doctor?"

"The situation's the same. Have you decided?"

"Yes," said Soames; "don't operate!"

"Not? You understand--the risk's great?"

In Soames' set face nothing moved but the lips.

"You said there was a chance?"

"A chance, yes; not much of one."

"You say the baby must be born dead if you do?"

"Yes."

"Do you still think that