The earth gave forth a fainting warmth, stealing up through the
chilly garment in which winter had wrapped her. It was her long caress
of invitation, to draw men down to lie within her arms, to roll their
bodies on her, and put their lips to her breast.
On just such a day as this Soames had got from Irene the promise he had
asked her for so often. Seated on the fallen trunk of a tree, he had
promised for the twentieth time that if their marriage were not a
success, she should be as free as if she had never married him!
"Do you swear it?" she had said. A few days back she had reminded him
of that oath. He had answered: "Nonsense! I couldn't have sworn any such
thing!" By some awkward fatality he remembered it now. What queer things
men would swear for the sake of women! He would have sworn it at any
time to gain her! He would swear it now, if thereby he could touch
her--but nobody could touch her, she was cold-hearted!
And memories crowded on him with the fresh, sweet savour of the spring
wind-memories of his courtship.
In the spring of the year 1881 he was visiting his old school-fellow
and client, George Liversedge, of Branksome, who, with the view of
developing his pine-woods in the neighbourhood of Bournemouth, had
placed the formation of the company necessary to the scheme in Soames's
hands.
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