centre of the map of
Spain; and of an early morning the dewy cobwebs, the hazy sparkle and
promise of the day down in the garden, were Jon personified to her.

Two white swans came majestically by, while she was reading his letters,
followed by their brood of six young swans in a line, with just so much
water between each tail and head, a flotilla of grey destroyers. Fleur
thrust her letters back, got out her sculls, and pulled up to the
landing-stage. Crossing the lawn, she wondered whether she should tell
her father of June's visit. If he learned of it from the butler, he
might think it odd if she did not. It gave her, too, another chance to
startle out of him the reason of the feud. She went, therefore, up the
road to meet him.

Soames had gone to look at a patch of ground on which the Local
Authorities were proposing to erect a Sanatorium for people with weak
lungs. Faithful to his native individualism, he took no part in local
affairs, content to pay the rates which were always going up. He could
not, however, remain indifferent to this new and dangerous scheme. The
site was not half a mile from his own house. He was quite of opinion
that the country should stamp out tuberculosis; but this was not the
place. It should be done farther away. He took, indeed, an attitude
common to all true Forsytes, that disability of any sort in other people
was not his affair, and the State should do its business without
prejudicing in any way the natural advantages which he had acquired or
inherited. Francie, the most free-spirited Forsyte of his generation
(except perhaps that fellow Jolyon) had once asked him in her malicious
way: "Did you ever see the name Forsyte in a subscription list, Soames?"
That was as it might be, but a Sanatorium would depreciate the
neighbourhood, and he should certainly sign the petition which was being
got up against it. Returning with this decision fresh within him, he saw
Fleur coming.

She was showing him more affection of late, and the quiet time down here
with her in this summer weather had been making him feel quite young;
Annette was always running up to Town for one thing or another, so that
he had Fleur to himself almost as much as he could wish. To be sure,
young Mont had formed a habit of appearing on his motor-cycle almost
every other day. Thank goodness, the young fellow had shaved off his
half-toothbrushes, and no longer looked like a mountebank! With a girl
friend of F