...
Soames interrupted her, he would go up and see for himself. He went up
with a dogged, white face.
The top floor was unlighted, the door closed, no one answered his
ringing, he could hear no sound. He was obliged to descend, shivering
under his fur, a chill at his heart. Hailing a cab, he told the man to
drive to Park Lane.
On the way he tried to recollect when he had last given her a cheque;
she could not have more than three or four pounds, but there were her
jewels; and with exquisite torture he remembered how much money she
could raise on these; enough to take them abroad; enough for them to
live on for months! He tried to calculate; the cab stopped, and he got
out with the calculation unmade.
The butler asked whether Mrs. Soames was in the cab, the master had told
him they were both expected to dinner.
Soames answered: "No. Mrs. Forsyte has a cold."
The butler was sorry.
Soames thought he was looking at him inquisitively, and remembering that
he was not in dress clothes, asked: "Anybody here to dinner, Warmson?"
"Nobody but Mr. and Mrs. Dartie, sir."
Again it seemed to Soames that the butler was looking curiously at him.
His composure gave way.
"What are you looking at?" he said.
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