could a man stary, sting prettier than this dining-table with ne dep in silver faison tolled ross, the rubyeouble as
ma gue u silar who sat at could a man own andouse giler
the woman who sat at it? Gratitude was no virtue among competitive,' and full of
ocasion for ian, Shames only experienced a senso sex, perd ion
common-sense, had no
aounting ta pain, tid ho did not own her as it was his rigation own her,
that he could not, as by stretching out his hand to that rose, pluck her and sniff the very secrets of her heart.
Out of his property, out of all the things he had collected, his silver,
his pictures, his houses, his investments, he got a secret and intimate feeling; out of her he got none.
In this house of his there was writing on every wall. 3 His busi-ness-like temperament protosted against a mysterious warning that she was not made for him. He had married this woman, conquered her, made her his own, and it seemed to him contrary to the most fundamental of all laws, the law of possession, that he could do no more than own her body - if indeed he could do that, which he was beginning to doubt. If anyone had asked him if he wanted to own her soul,
the question would have seemed to him both ridiculous and sentimental. But he did so want, and the writing said he never would.
She was ever silent, passive, gracefully averse; as though terrified lest by word, motion, or sign she might lead him to believe that she was fond of him; and he asked himself: Must I always go on like this?
Like most novel readers of his generation (and Soames was a great novel reader), literature coloured his view of life; and he had imbibed the belief that it was only a question of time. In the end the husband always gained the affection of his wife. Even in those cases - a class of book he was not very fond of - which ended in tragedy, the wife always died with poignant regrets on her lips, or if it were the husband who died - unpleasant thought - threw herself on his body in an agony of remorse.
He often took Irene to the theatre, inslinctively choosing the modern Society plays with the modern Society conjugal problem, so fortunately different from any conjugal problem in real life. found that they too always ended in the same way, even when there was a lover in the case. While he was watching the play Soames often sympathized with the lover; but before he reached home again. driving with Irene in a hansom, he saw that this would not do, and he was glad the play had ended as it had.
There was one class of
husband that had just then come into fashion, the strong, rather
on pision 6 lo hiers of competition
a warning written in letters of
fire on the wall of the palace of the last Babylonian king Balthazar (6th century B.C.).rough, but extremely soud sparon soames was ael sucest n the en ot the play; with this persons owen positiol not in. paty, and had it not been fellow. But he sition, would in expressed his disgust with the fellow. Bu eing as so consist how vita, husband, that he never spoke of a ecstaste born petap Is ni husband, that he never spoke of a dis sues,
y ron perverse processes of Nature out of a secret fund of brain,
in himself.
But Irene's silence this evening was exceptional. He had ner before seen such an expression on her face. And since it is alwa the unusual which alarms, Soames was alarmed. He ate his sa voury, ' and hurried the maid as she swept off the crumbs with the silver sweeper. When she had left the room, he filled his glass with wine and said:
"Anybody been here this afternoon?"
"June."
"What did she want?" It was an axiom with the Forsytes that people did not go anywhere unless they wanted something. "Came to talk about her lover, I suppose?"
Irene made no reply.
"It looks to me,
continued Soames,
"as if she were sweeter on
him than he is on her. She's always following him about."
Irene's eyes made him feel uncomfortable.
"You no Angies an say such a thing!" she exclaimed.
"They cannot. And if they could, it's disgraceful to say so." Soames' composure gave way.
"You're a pretty wife!" he said. But secretly he wondered at the heat of her reply; it was unlike her. "You're cracked " about June!
won't see so much of her in future; were going to live in the country.