ess of June's nearly as bad. It seemed like a fatality, and a
fatality was one of those things no man of his character could either
understand or put up with.

In writing to his son he did not really hope that anything would come of
it. Since the ball at Roger's he had seen too clearly how the land
lay--he could put two and two together quicker than most men--and, with
the example of his own son before his eyes, knew better than any Forsyte
of them all that the pale flame singes men's wings whether they will or
no.

In the days before June's engagement, when she and Mrs. Soames were
always together, he had seen enough of Irene to feel the spell she cast
over men. She was not a flirt, not even a coquette--words dear to the
heart of his generation, which loved to define things by a good, broad,
inadequate word--but she was dangerous. He could not say why. Tell him
of a quality innate in some women--a seductive power beyond their own
control! He would but answer: 'Humbug!' She was dangerous, and there
was an end of it. He wanted to close his eyes to that affair. If it
was, it was; he did not want to hear any more about it--he only wanted to
save June's position and her peace of mind. He still hoped she might
once more become a comfort to himself.

And so he had written. He got little enough out of the answer. As to
what young Jolyon had made of the interview, there was practically only
the queer sentence: 'I gather that he's in the stream.' The stream! What
stream? What was this new-fangled way of talking?

He sighed, and folded the last of the papers under the flap of the bag;
he knew well enough what was meant.

June came out of the dining-room, and helped him on with his summer coat.
From her costume, and the expression of her little resolute face, he saw
at once what was coming.

"I'm going with you," she said.

"Nonsense, my dear; I go straight into the City. I can't have you
racketting about!"

"I must see old Mrs. Smeech."

"Oh, your precious 'lame ducks!" grumbled out old Jolyon. He did not
believe her excuse, but ceased his opposition. There was no doing
anything with that pertinacity of hers.

At Victoria he put her into the carriage which had been ordered for
himself--a characteristic action, for he had no petty selfishnesses.

"Now, don't you go tiring yourself, my darling," he said, and took a cab
on into the city.

June went first to a back-street in Paddington, where Mrs. Smeec