own
children; it was a nightmare to him to think of them exposed to the
treatment of the world, in money, health, or reputation. When his old
friend John Street's son volunteered for special service, he shook his
head querulously, and wondered what John Street was about to allow it;
and when young Street was assagaied, he took it so much to heart that he
made a point of calling everywhere with the special object of saying: He
knew how it would be--he'd no patience with them!

When his son-in-law Dartie had that financial crisis, due to speculation
in Oil Shares, James made himself ill worrying over it; the knell of all
prosperity seemed to have sounded. It took him three months and a visit
to Baden-Baden to get better; there was something terrible in the idea
that but for his, James's, money, Dartie's name might have appeared in
the Bankruptcy List.

Composed of a physiological mixture so sound that if he had an earache
he thought he was dying, he regarded the occasional ailments of his
wife and children as in the nature of personal grievances, special
interventions of Providence for the purpose of destroying his peace of
mind; but he did not believe at all in the ailments of people outside
his own immediate family, affirming them in every case to be due to
neglected liver.

His universal comment was: "What can they expect? I have it myself, if
I'm not careful!"

When he went to Soames's that evening he felt that life was hard on him:
There was Emily with a bad toe, and Rachel gadding about in the country;
he got no sympathy from anybody; and Ann, she was ill--he did not
believe she would last through the summer; he had called there three
times now without her being able to see him! And this idea of Soames's,
building a house, that would have to be looked into. As to the trouble
with Irene, he didn't know what was to come of that--anything might come
of it!

He entered 62, Montpellier Square with the fullest intentions of being
miserable. It was already half-past seven, and Irene, dressed
for dinner, was seated in the drawing-room. She was wearing her
gold-coloured frock--for, having been displayed at a dinner-party, a
soiree, and a dance, it was now to be worn at home--and she had
adorned the bosom with a cascade of lace, on which James's eyes riveted
themselves at once.

"Where do you get your things?" he said in an aggravated voice. "I never
see Rachel and Cicely looking half so well. That rose-point, now--t