To Let by John Galsworthy (bookstand for reading .TXT) 📕

That. What Shall You Do, Soames?"

"Be Guided By Events."

They Moved On, Silent, In The     Almost Solid Crowd.

"Really," Said Winifred Suddenly; "It Almost Seems Like Fate. Only

That's So Old-Fashioned. Look! There Are George And Eustace!"

George Forsyte's Lofty Bulk Had Halted Before Them.

"Hallo, Soames!" He Said. "Just Met Profond And Your Wife. You'll Catch

'Em If You Put On Steam. Did You Ever Go To See Old Timothy?"

Soame Nodded, And The     Streams Forced Them Apart.

"I Always Liked Old George," Said Winifred. "He's So Droll."

"I Never Did," Said Soames. "Where's Your Seat? I Shall Go To Mine.

Fleur May Be Back There."

Having Seen Winifred To Her Seat, He Regained His Own, Conscious Of

Small, White, Distant Figures Running, The     Click Of     The     Bat, The     Cheers

And Counter-Cheers. No Fleur, And No Annette! You Could Expect Nothing

Of Women Nowadays! They Had The     Vote. They Were "Emancipated," And Much

Good It Was Doing Them. So Winifred Would Go Back, Would She, And Put

Up With Dartie All Over Again? To Have The     Past Once More--To Be

Sitting Here As He Had Sat In '83 And '84, Before He Was Certain That

His Marriage With Irene Had Gone All Wrong, Before Her Antagonism Had

Become So Glaring That With The     Best Will In The     World He Could Not

Overlook It. The     Sight Of     Her With That Fellow Had Brought All Memory

Back. Even Now He Could Not Understand Why She Had Been So

Impracticable. She Could Love Other Men; She Had It In Her! To Himself,

The One Person She Ought To Have Loved, She Had Chosen To Refuse Her

Heart. It Seemed To Him, Fantastically, As He Looked Back, That All

This Modern Relaxation Of     Marriage--Though Its Forms And Laws Were The

Same As When He Married Her--That All This Modern Looseness Had Come

Out Of     Her Revolt; It Seemed To Him, Fantastically, That She Had

Started It, Till All Decent Ownership Of     Anything Had Gone, Or Was On

The Point Of     Going. All Came From Her! And Now--A Pretty State Of

Things! Homes! How Could You Have Them Without Mutual Ownership? Not

That He Had Ever Had A Real Home! But Had That Been His Fault? He Had

Done His Best. And His Reward--Those Two Sitting In That Stand! And

This Affair Of     Fleur's!

And Overcome By Loneliness He Thought: 'Shan't Wait Any Longer! They

Must Find Their Own Way Back To The     Hotel--If They Mean To Come!'

Hailing A Cab Outside The     Ground, He Said:

 "Drive Me To The     Bayswater Road." His Old Aunts Had Never Failed Him.

To Them He Had Meant An Everwelcome Visitor. Though They Were Gone,

There, Still, Was Timothy!

Smither Was Standing In The     Open Doorway.

"Mr. Soames! I Was Just Taking The     Air. Cook Will Be So Pleased.

"How Is Mr. Timothy?"

"Not Himself At All These Last Few Days, Sir; He's Been Talking A Great

Deal. Only This Morning He Was Saying: 'My Brother James, He's Getting

Old.' His Mind Wanders, Mr. Soames, And Then He Will Talk Of     Them. He

Troubles About Their Investments. The     Other Day He Said: 'There's My

Brother Jolyon Won't Look At Consols'--He Seemed Quite Down About It.

Come In, Mr. Soames, Come In! It's Such A Pleasant Change!"

"Well," Said Soames, "Just For A Few Minutes."

"No," Murmured Smither In The     Hall, Where The     Air Had The     Singular

Freshness Of     The     Outside Day, "We Haven't Been Very Satisfied With Him,

Not All This Week. He's Always Been One To Leave A Titbit To The     End;

But Ever Since Monday He's Been Eating It First. If You Notice A Dog,

Mr. Soames, At Its Dinner, It Eats The     Meat First. We've Always Thought

It Such A Good Sign Of     Mr. Timothy At His Age To Leave It To The     Last,

But Now He Seems To Have Lost All His Self-Control; And, Of     Course, It

Makes Him Leave The     Rest. The     Doctor Doesn't Make Anything Of     It,

But"--Smither Shook Her Head--"He Seems To Think He's Got To Eat It

First, In Case He Shouldn't Get To It. That And His Talking Makes Us

Anxious."

"Has He Said Anything Important?"

"I Shouldn't Like To Say That, Mr. Soames; But He's Turned Against His

Will. He Gets Quite Pettish--And After Having Had It Out Every Morning

For Years, It Does Seem Funny. He Said The     Other Day: 'They Want My

Money.' It Gave Me Such A Turn, Because, As I Said To Him, Nobody Wants

His Money, I'm Sure. And It Does Seem A Pity He Should Be Thinking

About Money At His Time Of     Life. I Took My Courage In My 'Ands. 'You

Know, Mr. Timothy,' I Said, 'My Dear Mistress'--That's Miss Forsyte,

Mr. Soames, Miss Ann That Trained Me--'She Never Thought About Money,'

I Said, 'It Was All Character With Her.' He Looked At Me, I Can't Tell

You How Funny, And He Said Quite Dry: 'Nobody Wants My Character.'

Think Of     His Saying A Thing Like That! But Sometimes He'll Say

Something As Sharp And Sensible As Anything.

Soames, Who Had Been Staring At An Old Print By The     Hat-Rack, Thinking,

'That's Got Value!' Murmured: "I'll Go Up And See Him, Smither."

"Cook's With Him," Answered Smither Above Her Corsets; "She Will Be

Pleased To See You."

He Mounted Slowly, With The     Thought: 'Shan't Care To Live To Be That

Age.'

On The     Second Floor, He Paused, And Tapped. The     Door Was Opened, And He

Saw The     Round Homely Face Of     A Woman About Sixty.

"Mr. Soames!" She Said: "Why! Mr. Soames!"

Soames Nodded. "All Right, Cook!" And Entered.

Timothy Was Propped Up In Bed, With His Hands Joined Before His Chest,

And His Eyes Fixed On The     Ceiling, Where A Fly Was Standing Upside

Down. Soames Stood At The     Foot Of     The     Bed, Facing Him.

"Uncle Timothy," He Said, Raising His Voice; "Uncle Timothy!"

Timothy's Eyes Left The     Fly, And Levelled Themselves On His Visitor.

Soames Could See His Pale Tongue Passing Over His Darkish Lips.

"Uncle Timothy," He Said Again, "Is There Anything I Can Do For You? Is

There Anything You'd Like To Say?"

"Ha!" Said Timothy

"I've Come To Look You Up And See That Everything's All Right."

 Timothy Nodded. He Seemed Trying To Get Used To The     Apparition Before

Him.

"Have You Got Everything You Want?"

"No," Said Timothy.

"Can I Get You Anything?"

"No," Said Timothy.

 "I'm Soames, You Know; Your Nephew, Soames Forsyte. Your Brother James'

Son."

 Timothy Nodded.

"I Shall Be Delighted To Do Anything I Can For You."

Timothy Beckoned. Soames Went Close To Him.

"You--" Said Timothy In A Voice Which Seemed To Have Outlived Tone,

"You Tell Them All From Me--You Tell Them All--" And His Finger Tapped

On Soames' Arm, "To Hold On--Hold On--Consols Are Goin' Up," And He

Nodded Thrice.

"All Right!" Said Soames; "I Will.

"Yes," Said Timothy, And, Fixing His Eyes Again On The     Ceiling, He

Added: "That Fly!"

Strangely Moved, Soames Looked At The     Cook's Pleasant Fattish Face, All

Little Puckers From Staring At Fires.

"That'll Do Him A World Of     Good, Sir," She Said.

A Mutter Came From Timothy, But He Was Clearly Speaking To Himself, And

Soames Went Out With The     Cook.

"I Wish I Could Make You A Pink Cream, Mr. Soames, Like In Old Days;

You Did So Relish Them. Good-Bye, Sir; It Has Been A Pleasure."

"Take Care Of     Him, Cook, He Is Old."

And, Shaking Her Crumpled Hand, He Went Down-Stairs. Smither Was Still

Taking The     Air In The     Doorway.

 "What Do You Think Of     Him, Mr. Soames?"

"H'm!" Soames Murmured: "He's Lost Touch."

"Yes," Said Smither, "I Was Afraid You'd Think That, Coming Fresh Out

Of The     World To See Him Like."

"Smither," Said Soames, "We're All Indebted To You."

"Oh, No, Mr. Soames, Don't Say That! It's A Pleasure--He's Such A

Wonderful Man."

"Well, Good-Bye!" Said Soames, And Got Into His Taxi.

'Going Up!' He Thought; 'Going Up!'

Reaching The     Hotel At Knightsbridge He Went To Their Sitting-Room,