of humour shot through the sternness of old Jolyon's eyes.
Extraordinary old woman, Juley! No one quite like her for saying the
wrong thing!

"Bad!" he said; "London don't agree with her--too many people about, too
much clatter and chatter by half." He laid emphasis on the words, and
again looked James in the face.

Nobody spoke.

A feeling of its being too dangerous to take a step in any direction, or
hazard any remark, had fallen on them all. Something of the sense of the
impending, that comes over the spectator of a Greek tragedy, had entered
that upholstered room, filled with those white-haired, frock-coated
old men, and fashionably attired women, who were all of the same blood,
between all of whom existed an unseizable resemblance.

Not that they were conscious of it--the visits of such fateful, bitter
spirits are only felt.

Then Swithin rose. He would not sit there, feeling like that--he was
not to be put down by anyone! And, manoeuvring round the room with added
pomp, he shook hands with each separately.

"You tell Timothy from me," he said, "that he coddles himself too much!"
Then, turning to Francie, whom he considered 'smart,' he added: "You
come with me for a drive one of these days." But this conjured up the
vision of that other eventful drive which had been so much talked about,
and he stood quite still for a second, with glassy eyes, as though
waiting to catch up with the significance of what he himself had said;
then, suddenly recollecting that he didn't care a damn, he turned to
old Jolyon: "Well, good-bye, Jolyon! You shouldn't go about without an
overcoat; you'll be getting sciatica or something!" And, kicking the cat
slightly with the pointed tip of his patent leather boot, he took his
huge form away.

When he had gone everyone looked secretly at the others, to see how they
had taken the mention of the word 'drive'--the word which had
become famous, and acquired an overwhelming importance, as the only
official--so to speak--news in connection with the vague and sinister
rumour clinging to the family tongue.

Euphemia, yielding to an impulse, said with a short laugh: "I'm glad
Uncle Swithin doesn't ask me to go for drives."

Mrs. Small, to reassure her and smooth over any little awkwardness the
subject might have, replied: "My dear, he likes to take somebody well
dressed, who will do him a little credit. I shall never forget the drive
he took me. It was an experience!" And her chubby round