Just go and entertain him while I finish
shaving. I'll be down in a minute. It's about the plans, I expect."
Irene looked at him, without reply, put the finishing touch to her dress
and went downstairs. He could not make her out about this house. She had
said nothing against it, and, as far as Bosinney was concerned, seemed
friendly enough.
From the window of his dressing-room he could see them talking together
in the little court below. He hurried on with his shaving, cutting his
chin twice. He heard them laugh, and thought to himself: "Well, they get
on all right, anyway!"
As he expected, Bosinney had come round to fetch him to look at the
plans.
He took his hat and went over.
The plans were spread on the oak table in the architect's room; and
pale, imperturbable, inquiring, Soames bent over them for a long time
without speaking.
He said at last in a puzzled voice:
"It's an odd sort of house!"
A rectangular house of two stories was designed in a quadrangle round a
covered-in court. This court, encircled by a gallery on the upper floor,
was roofed with a glass roof, supported by eight columns running up from
the ground.
It was indeed, to Forsyte eyes, an odd house.
"There's a lot of room cut to waste," pursued Soames.
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