prime condition! Thirty-five years ago he had bought it--thank God he had
kept his palate, and earned the right to drink it. She would appreciate
this; not a spice of acidity in a dozen. He wiped the bottle, drew the
cork with his own hands, put his nose down, inhaled its perfume, and went
back to the music room.

Irene was standing by the piano; she had taken off her hat and a lace
scarf she had been wearing, so that her gold-coloured hair was visible,
and the pallor of her neck. In her grey frock she made a pretty picture
for old Jolyon, against the rosewood of the piano.

He gave her his arm, and solemnly they went. The room, which had been
designed to enable twenty-four people to dine in comfort, held now but a
little round table. In his present solitude the big dining-table
oppressed old Jolyon; he had caused it to be removed till his son came
back. Here in the company of two really good copies of Raphael Madonnas
he was wont to dine alone. It was the only disconsolate hour of his day,
this summer weather. He had never been a large eater, like that great
chap Swithin, or Sylvanus Heythorp, or Anthony Thornworthy, those cronies
of past times; and to dine alone, overlooked by the Madonnas, was to him
but a sorrowful occupation, which he got through quickly, that he might
come to the more spiritual enjoyment of his coffee and cigar. But this
evening was a different matter! His eyes twinkled at her across the
little table and he spoke of Italy and Switzerland, telling her stories
of his travels there, and other experiences which he could no longer
recount to his son and grand-daughter because they knew them. This fresh
audience was precious to him; he had never become one of those old men
who ramble round and round the fields of reminiscence. Himself quickly
fatigued by the insensitive, he instinctively avoided fatiguing others,
and his natural flirtatiousness towards beauty guarded him specially in
his relations with a woman. He would have liked to draw her out, but
though she murmured and smiled and seemed to be enjoying what he told
her, he remained conscious of that mysterious remoteness which
constituted half her fascination. He could not bear women who threw
their shoulders and eyes at you, and chattered away; or hard-mouthed
women who laid down the law and knew more than you did. There was only
one quality in a woman that appealed to him--charm; and the quieter it
was, the more he liked it. And t