was it of theirs? There
was only one thing--and with her cheek pressing against his knee, old
Jolyon knew at once that this something was no trifle: As he was going
to buy a house in the country, would he not--to please her--buy that
splendid house of Soames' at Robin Hill? It was finished, it was
perfectly beautiful, and no one would live in it now. They would all be
so happy there.

Old Jolyon was on the alert at once. Wasn't the 'man of property' going
to live in his new house, then? He never alluded to Soames now but under
this title.

"No"--June said--"he was not; she knew that he was not!"

How did she know?

She could not tell him, but she knew. She knew nearly for certain! It
was most unlikely; circumstances had changed! Irene's words still rang
in her head: "I have left Soames. Where should I go?"

But she kept silence about that.

If her grandfather would only buy it and settle that wretched claim that
ought never to have been made on Phil! It would be the very best thing
for everybody, and everything--everything might come straight.

And June put her lips to his forehead, and pressed them close.

But old Jolyon freed himself from her caress, his face wore the judicial
look which came upon it when he dealt with affairs. He asked: What
did she mean? There was something behind all this--had she been seeing
Bosinney?

June answered: "No; but I have been to his rooms."

"Been to his rooms? Who took you there?"

June faced him steadily. "I went alone. He has lost that case. I don't
care whether it was right or wrong. I want to help him; and I will!"

Old Jolyon asked again: "Have you seen him?" His glance seemed to pierce
right through the girl's eyes into her soul.

Again June answered: "No; he was not there. I waited, but he did not
come."

Old Jolyon made a movement of relief. She had risen and looked down at
him; so slight, and light, and young, but so fixed, and so determined;
and disturbed, vexed, as he was, he could not frown away that fixed
look. The feeling of being beaten, of the reins having slipped, of being
old and tired, mastered him.

"Ah!" he said at last, "you'll get yourself into a mess one of these
days, I can see. You want your own way in everything."

Visited by one of his strange bursts of philosophy, he added: "Like that
you were born; and like that you'll stay until you die!"

And he, who in his dealings with men of business, with Boards, with
Forsytes of all descriptio