by which hour he knew Soames must
certainly have left the club.

It would not do, as he kept repeating to himself whenever he felt the
impulse to join the gossips in the bay-window getting too strong for
him--it absolutely would not do, with finances as low as his, and the
'old man' (James) rusty ever since that business over the oil shares,
which was no fault of his, to risk a row with Winifred.

If Soames were to see him in the club it would be sure to come round to
her that he wasn't at the dentist's at all. He never knew a family where
things 'came round' so. Uneasily, amongst the green baize card-tables, a
frown on his olive coloured face, his check trousers crossed, and
patent-leather boots shining through the gloom, he sat biting his
forefinger, and wondering where the deuce he was to get the money if
Erotic failed to win the Lancashire Cup.

His thoughts turned gloomily to the Forsytes. What a set they were!
There was no getting anything out of them--at least, it was a matter of
extreme difficulty. They were so d---d particular about money matters;
not a sportsman amongst the lot, unless it were George. That fellow
Soames, for instance, would have a ft if you tried to borrow a tenner
from him, or, if he didn't have a fit, he looked at you with his cursed
supercilious smile, as if you were a lost soul because you were in want
of money.

And that wife of his (Dartie's mouth watered involuntarily), he had tried
to be on good terms with her, as one naturally would with any pretty
sister-in-law, but he would be cursed if the (he mentally used a coarse
word)--would have anything to say to him--she looked at him, indeed, as
if he were dirt--and yet she could go far enough, he wouldn't mind
betting. He knew women; they weren't made with soft eyes and figures
like that for nothing, as that fellow Soames would jolly soon find out,
if there were anything in what he had heard about this Buccaneer Johnny.

Rising from his chair, Dartie took a turn across the room, ending in
front of the looking-glass over the marble chimney-piece; and there he
stood for a long time contemplating in the glass the reflection of his
face. It had that look, peculiar to some men, of having been steeped in
linseed oil, with its waxed dark moustaches and the little distinguished
commencements of side whiskers; and concernedly he felt the promise of a
pimple on the side of his slightly curved and fattish nose.

In the meantime old Jolyo