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CHAPTER　XIV

SOAMES　SITS　ON　THE　STAIRS


Soames　went　upstairs　that　night　that　he　had　gone　too　far。　　He　was　prepared　to　offer　excuses　for　his　words。

He　turned　out　the　gas　still　burning　in　the　passage　outside　their　room。　　Pausing；　with　his　hand　on　the　knob　of　the　door；　he　tried　to　shape　his　apology；　for　he　had　no　intention　of　letting　her　see　that　he　was　nervous。

But　the　door　did　not　open；　nor　when　he　pulled　it　and　turned　the　handle　firmly。　　She　must　have　locked　it　for　some　reason；　and　forgotten。

Entering　his　dressing…room；　where　the　gas　was　also　light　and　burning　low；　he　went　quickly　to　the　other　door。　　That　too　was　locked。　　Then　he　noticed　that　the　camp　bed　which　he　occasionally　used　was　prepared；　and　his　sleeping…suit　laid　out　upon　it。　　He　put　his　hand　up　to　his　forehead；　and　brought　it　away　wet。　　It　dawned　on　him　that　he　was　barred　out。

He　went　back　to　the　door；　and　rattling　the　handle　stealthily；　called：　〃Unlock　the　door；　do　you　hear？　　Unlock　the　door！〃

There　was　a　faint　rustling；　but　no　answer。

〃Do　you　hear？　　Let　me　in　at　onceI　insist　on　being　let　in！〃

He　could　catch　the　sound　of　her　breathing　close　to　the　door；　like　the　breathing　of　a　creature　threatened　by　danger。

There　was　something　terrifying　in　this　inexorable　silence；　in　the　impossibility　of　getting　at　her。　　He　went　back　to　the　other　door；　and　putting　his　whole　weight　against　it；　tried　to　burst　it　open。　The　door　was　a　new　onehe　had　had　them　renewed　himself；　in　readiness　for　their　coming　in　after　the　honeymoon。　　In　a　rage　he　lifted　his　foot　to　kick　in　the　panel；　the　thought　of　the　servants　restrained　him；　and　he　felt　suddenly　that　he　was　beaten。

Flinging　himself　down　in　the　dressing…room；　he　took　up　a　book。

But　instead　of　the　print　he　seemed　to　see　his　wifewith　her　yellow　hair　flowing　over　her　bare　shoulders；　and　her　great　dark　eyesstanding　like　an　animal　at　bay。　　And　the　whole　meaning　of　her　act　of　revolt　came　to　him。　　She　meant　it　to　be　for　good。

He　could　not　sit　still；　and　went　to　the　door　again。　　He　could　still　hear　her；　and　he　called：　〃Irene！　　Irene！〃

He　did　not　mean　to　make　his　voice　pathetic。

In　ominous　answer；　the　faint　sounds　ceased。　　He　stood　with　clenched　hands；　thinking。

Presently　he　stole　round　on　tiptoe；　and　running　suddenly　at　the　other　door；　made　a　supreme　effort　to　break　it　open。　　It　creaked；　but　did　not　yield。　　He　sat　down　on　the　stairs　and　buried　his　face　in　his　hands。

For　a　long　time　he　sat　there　in　the　dark；　the　moon　through　the　skylight　above　laying　a　pale　smear　which　lengthened　slowly　towards　him　down　the　stairway。　　He　tried　to　be　philosophical。

Since　she　had　locked　her　doors　she　had　no　further　claim　as　a　wife；　and　he　would　console　himself　with　other　women。

It　was　but　a　spectral　journey　he　made　among　such　delightshe　had　no　appetite　for　these　exploits。　　He　had　never　had　much；　and　he　had　lost　the　habit。　　He　felt　that　he　could　never　recover　it。　　His　hunger　could　only　be　appeased　by　his　wife；　inexorable　and　frightened；　behind　these　shut　doors。　　No　other　woman　could　help　him。

This　conviction　came　to　him　with　terrible　force　out　there　in　the　dark。

His　philosophy　left　him；　and　surly　anger　took　its　place。　　Her　conduct　was　immoral；　inexcusable；　worthy　of　any　punishment　within　his　power。　　He　desired　no　one　but　her；　and　she　refused　him！

She　must　really　hate　him；　then！　　He　had　never　believed　it　yet。　He　did　not　believe　it　now。　　It　seemed　to　him　incredible。　　He　felt　as　though　he　had　lost　for　ever　his　power　of　judgment。　　If　she；　so　soft　and　yielding　as　he　had　always　judged　her；　could　take　this　decided　stepwhat　could　not　happen？

Then　he　asked　himself　again　if　she　were　carrying　on　an　intrigue　with　Bosinney。　　He　did　not　believe　that　she　was；　he　could　not　afford　to　believe　such　a　reason　for　her　conductthe　thought　was　not　to　be　faced。

It　would　be　unbearable　to　contemplate　the　necessity　of　making　his　marital　relations　public　property。　　Short　of　the　most　convincing　proofs　he　must　still　refuse　to　believe；　for　he　did　not　wish　to　punish　himself。　　And　all　the　time　at　hearthe　did　believe。

The　moonlight　cast　a　greyish　tinge　over　his　figure；　hunched　against　the　staircase　wall。

Bosinney　was　in　love　with　her！　　He　hated　the　fellow；　and　would　not　spare　him　now。　　He　could　and　would　refuse　to　pay　a　penny　piece　over　twelve　thousand　and　fifty　poundsthe　extreme　limit　fixed　in　the　correspondence；　or　rather　he　would　pay；　he　would　pay　and　sue　him　for　damages。　　He　would　go　to　Jobling　and　Boulter　and　put　the　matter　in　their　hands。　　He　would　ruin　the　impecunious　beggar！　　And　suddenlythough　what　connection　between　the　thoughts？he　reflected　that　Irene　had　no　money　either。　　They　were　both　beggars。　　This　gave　him　a　strange　satisfaction。

The　silence　was　broken　by　a　faint　creaking　through　the　wall。　　She　was　going　to　bed　at　last。　　Ah！　Joy　and　pleasant　dreams！　　If　she　threw　the　door　open　wide　he　would　not　go　in　now！

But　his　lips；　that　were　twisted　in　a　bitter　smile；　twitched；　he　covered　his　eyes　with　his　hands。。。。

It　was　late　the　following　afternoon　when　Soames　stood　in　the　dining…room　window　gazing　gloomily　into　the　Square。

The　sunlight　still　showered　on　the　plane…trees；　and　in　the　breeze　their　gay　broad　leaves　shone　and　swung　in　rhyme　to　a　barrel　organ　at　the　corner。　　It　was　playing　a　waltz；　an　old　waltz　that　was　out　of　fashion；　with　a　fateful　rhythm　in　the　notes；　and　it　went　on　and　on；　though　nothing　indeed　but　leaves　danced　to　the　tune。

The　woman　did　not　look　too　gay；　for　she　was　tired；　and　from　the　tall　houses　no　one　threw　her　down　coppers。　　She　moved　the　organ　on；　and　three　doors　off　began　again。

It　was　the　waltz　they　had　played　at　Roger's　when　Irene　had　danced　with　Bosinney；　and　the　perfume　of　the　gardenias　she　had　worn　came　back　to　Soames；　drifted　by　the　malicious　music；　as　it　had　been　drifted　to　him　then；　when　she　passed；　her　hair　glistening；　her　eyes　so　soft；　drawing　Bosinney　on　and　on　down　an　endless　ballroom。

The　organ　woman　plied　her　handle　slowly；　she　had　been　grinding　her　tune　all　day…grinding　it　in　Sloane　Street　hard　by；　grinding　it　perhaps　to　Bosinney　himself。

Soames　turned；　took　a　cigarette　from　the　carven　box；　and　walked　back　to　the　window。　　The　tune　had　mesmerized　him；　and　there　came　into　his　view　Irene；　her　sunshade　furled；　hastening　homewards　down　the　Square；　in　a　soft；　rose…coloured　blouse　with　drooping　sleeves；　that　he　did　not　know。　　She　stopped　before　the　organ；　took　out　her　purse；　and　gave　the　woman　money。

Soames　shrank　back　and　stood　where　he　could　see　into　the　hall。

She　came　in　with　her　latch…key；　put　down　her　sunshade；　and　stood　looking　at　herself　in　the　glass。　　Her　cheeks　were　flushed　as　if　the　sun　had　burned　them；　her　lips　were　parted　in　a　smile。　　She　stretched　her　arms　out　as　though　to　embrace　herself；　with　a　laugh　that　for　all　the　world　was　like　a　sob。

Soames　stepped　forward。

〃Very…pretty！〃　he　said。

But　as　though　shot　she　spun　round；　and　would　have　passed　him　up　the　stairs。　　He　barred　the　way。

〃Why　such　a　hurry？〃　he　said；　and　his　eyes　fastened　on　a　curl　of　hair　fallen　loose　across　her　ear。。。。

He　hardly　recognised　her。　　She　seemed　on　fire；　so　deep　and　rich

the　colour　of　her　cheeks；　her　eyes；　her　lips；　and　of　the　unusual　blouse　she　wore。

She　put　up　her　hand　and　smoothed　back　the　curl。　　She　was　breathing　fast　and　deep；　as　though　she　had　been　running；　and　with　every　breath　perfume　seemed　to　come　from　her　hair；　and　from　her　body；　like　perfume　from　an　opening　flower。

〃I　don't　like　that　blouse；〃　he　said　slowly；　〃it's　a　soft；　shapeless　thing！〃

He　lifted　his　finger　towards　her　breast；　but　she　dashed　his　hand　aside。

〃Don't　touch　me！〃　she　cried。

He　caught　her　wrist；　she　wrenched　it　away。

〃And　where　may　you　have　been？〃　he　asked。

〃In　heavenout　of　this　house！〃　　With　those　words　she　fled　upstairs。

Outsidein　thanksgivingat　the　very　door；　the　organ…grinder　was　playing　the　waltz。

And　Soames　stood　motionless。　　What　prevented　him　from　following　her？

Was　it　that；　with　the　eyes　of　faith；　he　saw　Bosinney　looking　down　from　that　high　window　in　Sloane　Street；　straining　his　eyes　for　yet　another　glimpse　of　Irene's　vanished　figure；　cooling　his　flushed　face；　dreaming　of　the　moment　when　she　flung　herself　on　his　breastthe　scent　of　her　still　in　the　air　around；　and　the　sound　of　her　laugh　that　was　like　a　sob？





PART　III


CHAPTER　I

Mrs。　MAcANDER'S　EVIDENCE


Many　　people；　no　doubt；　including　the　editor　of　the　'Ultra　Vivisectionist；'　then　in　the　bloom　of　its　first　youth；　would　say　that　Soames　was　less　than　a　man　not　to　have　removed　the　locks　from　his　wife's　doors；　and；　after　beating　her　soundly；　resumed　wedded　happiness。

Brutality　is　not　so　deplorably　diluted　by　humaneness　as　it　used　to　be；　yet　a　sentimental　segment　of　the　population　may　still　be　relieved　to　learn　that　he　did　none　of　these　things。　　For　active　brutality；　is　not　popular　with　Forsytes；　they　are　too　circumspect；　and；　on　the　whole；　too　softhearted。　　And　in　Soames　there　was　some　common　pride；　not　sufficient　to　make　him　do　a　really　generous　action；　but　enough　to　prevent　his　indulging　in　an　extremely　mean　one；　except；　perhaps；　in　very　hot　blood。　　Above　all　this　true　Forsyte　refused　to　feel　himself　ridiculous。　　Short　of　actually　beating　his　wife；　he　perceived　nothing　to　be　d