. The cabman flicked his horse. It
sprang forward.

Dartie stood for a moment dumbfounded; then, dashing at the cab where his
wife sat, he scrambled in.

"Drive on!" he shouted to the driver, "and don't you lose sight of that
fellow in front!"

Seated by his wife's side, he burst into imprecations. Calming himself
at last with a supreme effort, he added: "A pretty mess you've made of
it, to let the Buccaneer drive home with her; why on earth couldn't you
keep hold of him? He's mad with love; any fool can see that!"

He drowned Winifred's rejoinder with fresh calls to the Almighty; nor was
it until they reached Barnes that he ceased a Jeremiad, in the course of
which he had abused her, her father, her brother, Irene, Bosinney, the
name of Forsyte, his own children, and cursed the day when he had ever
married.

Winifred, a woman of strong character, let him have his say, at the end
of which he lapsed into sulky silence. His angry eyes never deserted the
back of that cab, which, like a lost chance, haunted the darkness in
front of him.

Fortunately he could not hear Bosinney's passionate pleading--that
pleading which the man of the world's conduct had let loose like a flood;
he could not see Irene shivering, as though some garment had been torn
from her, nor her eyes, black and mournful, like the eyes of a beaten
child. He could not hear Bosinney entreating, entreating, always
entreating; could not hear her sudden, soft weeping, nor see that poor,
hungry-looking devil, awed and trembling, humbly touching her hand.

In Montpellier Square their cabman, following his instructions to the
letter, faithfully drew up behind the cab in front. The Darties saw
Bosinney spring out, and Irene follow, and hasten up the steps with bent
head. She evidently had her key in her hand, for she disappeared at
once. It was impossible to tell whether she had turned to speak to
Bosinney.

The latter came walking past their cab; both husband and wife had an
admirable view of his face in the light of a street lamp. It was working
with violent emotion.

"Good-night, Mr. Bosinney!" called Winifred.

Bosinney started, clawed off his hat, and hurried on. He had obviously
forgotten their existence.

"There!" said Dartie, "did you see the beast's face? What did I say?
Fine games!" He improved the occasion.

There had so clearly been a crisis in the cab that Winifred was unable to
defend her theory.

She said: "I shall say n