, Irene's own words.

"Thanks," muttered Soames, "but I see things perhaps more plainly than
you think. I only want to be sure that you won't try to influence her
against me."

"I don't know what makes you think I have any influence," said Jolyon;
"but if I have I'm bound to use it in the direction of what I think is
her happiness. I am what they call a 'feminist,' I believe."

"Feminist!" repeated Soames, as if seeking to gain time. "Does that mean
that you're against me?"

"Bluntly," said Jolyon, "I'm against any woman living with any man whom
she definitely dislikes. It appears to me rotten."

"And I suppose each time you see her you put your opinions into her
mind."

"I am not likely to be seeing her."

"Not going back to Paris?"

"Not so far as I know," said Jolyon, conscious of the intent watchfulness
in Soames' face.

"Well, that's all I had to say. Anyone who comes between man and wife,
you know, incurs heavy responsibility."

Jolyon rose and made him a slight bow.

"Good-bye," he said, and, without offering to shake hands, moved away,
leaving Soames staring after him. 'We Forsytes,' thought Jolyon, hailing
a cab, 'are very civilised. With simpler folk that might have come to a
row. If it weren't for my boy going to the war....' The war! A gust of
his old doubt swept over him. A precious war! Domination of peoples or
of women! Attempts to master and possess those who did not want you!
The negation of gentle decency! Possession, vested rights; and anyone
'agin' 'em--outcast! 'Thank Heaven!' he thought, 'I always felt "agin"
'em, anyway!' Yes! Even before his first disastrous marriage he could
remember fuming over the bludgeoning of Ireland, or the matrimonial suits
of women trying to be free of men they loathed. Parsons would have it
that freedom of soul and body were quite different things! Pernicious
doctrine! Body and soul could not thus be separated. Free will was the
strength of any tie, and not its weakness. 'I ought to have told
Soames,' he thought, 'that I think him comic. Ah! but he's tragic, too!'
Was there anything, indeed, more tragic in the world than a man enslaved
by his own possessive instinct, who couldn't see the sky for it, or even
enter fully into what another person felt! 'I must write and warn her,'
he thought; 'he's going to have another try.' And all the way home to
Robin Hill he rebelled at the strength of that duty to his son which
prevented him fr