Nothing that she could have done, nothing that she had done, brought
home to him like this the inner significance of her act. For the moment,
perhaps, he understood nearly all there was to understand--understood
that she loathed him, that she had loathed him for years, that for all
intents and purposes they were like people living in different worlds,
that there was no hope for him, never had been; even, that she had
suffered--that she was to be pitied.
In that moment of emotion he betrayed the Forsyte in him--forgot
himself, his interests, his property--was capable of almost anything;
was lifted into the pure ether of the selfless and unpractical.
Such moments pass quickly.
And as though with the tears he had purged himself of weakness, he got
up, locked the box, and slowly, almost trembling, carried it with him
into the other room.
CHAPTER VII--JUNE'S VICTORY
June had waited for her chance, scanning the duller columns of the
journals, morning and evening with an assiduity which at first
puzzled old Jolyon; and when her chance came, she took it with all the
promptitude and resolute tenacity of her character.
She will always remember best in her life that morning when at last she
saw amongst the reliable Cause List of the Times newspaper, under the
heading of Court XIII, Mr.
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