on as if he saw before him a frog too large
to swallow.

"What's all this?" he said. "Tell your father? You never tell me
anything."

The moment found Emily without reply. It was Winifred who went up to
him, and, laying one hand on each of his swathed, helpless arms, said:

"Monty's not gone bankrupt, Father. He's only come back."

They all three expected something serious to happen, and were glad she
had kept that grip of his arms, but they did not know the depth of root
in that shadowy old Forsyte. Something wry occurred about his shaven
mouth and chin, something scratchy between those long silvery whiskers.
Then he said with a sort of dignity: "He'll be the death of me. I knew
how it would be."

"You mustn't worry, Father," said Winifred calmly. "I mean to make him
behave."

"Ah!" said James. "Here, take this thing off, I'm hot." They unwound
the shawl. He turned, and walked firmly to the dining-room.

"I don't want any soup," he said to Warmson, and sat down in his chair.
They all sat down too, Winifred still in her hat, while Warmson laid the
fourth place. When he left the room, James said: "What's he brought
back?"

"Nothing, Father."

James concentrated his eyes on his own image in a tablespoon. "Divorce!"
he muttered; "rubbish! What was I about? I ought to have paid him an
allowance to stay out of England. Soames you go and propose it to him."

It seemed so right and simple a suggestion that even Winifred was
surprised when she said: "No, I'll keep him now he's back; he must just
behave--that's all."

They all looked at her. It had always been known that Winifred had
pluck.

"Out there!" said James elliptically, "who knows what cut-throats! You
look for his revolver! Don't go to bed without. You ought to have
Warmson to sleep in the house. I'll see him myself tomorrow."

They were touched by this declaration, and Emily said comfortably:
"That's right, James, we won't have any nonsense."

"Ah!" muttered James darkly, "I can't tell."

The advent of Warmson with fish diverted conversation.

When, directly after dinner, Winifred went over to kiss her father
good-night, he looked up with eyes so full of question and distress that
she put all the comfort she could into her voice.

"It's all right, Daddy, dear; don't worry. I shan't need anyone--he's
quite bland. I shall only be upset if you worry. Good-night, bless
you!"

James repeated the words, "Bless you!" as if he did