anguidly as a walking-stick.

They turned presently into comparative quiet, for old Jolyon's way to a
second Board led him in the direction of Moorage Street.

Then Soames, without lifting his eyes, began: "I've had this letter from
Bosinney. You see what he says; I thought I'd let you know. I've spent
a lot more than I intended on this house, and I want the position to be
clear."

Old Jolyon ran his eyes unwillingly over the letter: "What he says is
clear enough," he said.

"He talks about 'a free hand,'" replied Soames.

Old Jolyon looked at him. The long-suppressed irritation and antagonism
towards this young fellow, whose affairs were beginning to intrude upon
his own, burst from him.

"Well, if you don't trust him, why do you employ him?"

Soames stole a sideway look: "It's much too late to go into that," he
said, "I only want it to be quite understood that if I give him a free
hand, he doesn't let me in. I thought if you were to speak to him, it
would carry more weight!"

"No," said old Jolyon abruptly; "I'll have nothing to do with it!"

The words of both uncle and nephew gave the impression of unspoken
meanings, far more important, behind. And the look they interchanged was
like a revelation of this consciousness.

"Well," said Soames; "I thought, for June's sake, I'd tell you, that's
all; I thought you'd better know I shan't stand any nonsense!"

"What is that to me?" old Jolyon took him up.

"Oh! I don't know," said Soames, and flurried by that sharp look he was
unable to say more. "Don't say I didn't tell you," he added sulkily,
recovering his composure.

"Tell me!" said old Jolyon; "I don't know what you mean. You come
worrying me about a thing like this. I don't want to hear about your
affairs; you must manage them yourself!"

"Very well," said Soames immovably, "I will!"

"Good-morning, then," said old Jolyon, and they parted.

Soames retraced his steps, and going into a celebrated eating-house,
asked for a plate of smoked salmon and a glass of Chablis; he seldom ate
much in the middle of the day, and generally ate standing, finding the
position beneficial to his liver, which was very sound, but to which he
desired to put down all his troubles.

When he had finished he went slowly back to his office, with bent head,
taking no notice of the swarming thousands on the pavements, who in their
turn took no notice of him.

The evening post carried the following reply to Bosinney: