uite
seriously, and always with a certain queer uneasiness that he did not
make more money at it.
It was, then, this consciousness of what it meant to be a Forsyte, that
made him receive the following letter from old Jolyon, with a mixture of
sympathy and disgust:
'SHELDRAKE HOUSE,
'BROADSTAIRS,
'July 1. 'MY DEAR JO,'
(The Dad's handwriting had altered very little in the thirty odd years
that he remembered it.)
'We have been here now a fortnight, and have had good weather on the
whole. The air is bracing, but my liver is out of order, and I shall be
glad enough to get back to town. I cannot say much for June, her health
and spirits are very indifferent, and I don't see what is to come of it.
She says nothing, but it is clear that she is harping on this engagement,
which is an engagement and no engagement, and--goodness knows what. I
have grave doubts whether she ought to be allowed to return to London in
the present state of affairs, but she is so self-willed that she might
take it into her head to come up at any moment. The fact is someone
ought to speak to Bosinney and ascertain what he means. I'm afraid of
this myself, for I should certainly rap him over the knuckles, but I
thought that you, knowing him at the Club, might put in a word, and get
to ascertain what the fellow is about. You will of course in no way
commit June. I shall be glad to hear from you in the course of a few
days whether you have succeeded in gaining any information. The
situation is very distressing to me, I worry about it at night.
With my love to Jolly and Holly.
'I am,
'Your affect. father,
'JOLYON FORSYTE.'
Young Jolyon pondered this letter so long and seriously that his wife
noticed his preoccupation, and asked him what was the matter. He
replied: "Nothing."
It was a fixed principle with him never to allude to June. She might
take alarm, he did not know what she might think; he hastened, therefore,
to banish from his manner all traces of absorption, but in this he was
about as successful as his father would have been, for he had inherited
all old Jolyon's transparency in matters of domestic finesse; and young
Mrs. Jolyon, busying herself over the affairs of the house, went about
with tightened lips, stealing at him unfathomable looks.
He started for the Club in the afternoon with the letter in his pocket,
and without having made up his mind.
To sound a man as to 'his intentions' was peculiarly
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