And sharply he asked: "What is it you want, sir?"
The visitor turned. It was young Jolyon.
"The door was open," he said. "Might I see your wife for a minute, I
have a message for her?"
Soames gave him a strange, sidelong stare.
"My wife can see no one," he muttered doggedly.
Young Jolyon answered gently: "I shouldn't keep her a minute."
Soames brushed by him and barred the way.
"She can see no one," he said again.
Young Jolyon's glance shot past him into the hall, and Soames turned.
There in the drawing-room doorway stood Irene, her eyes were wild and
eager, her lips were parted, her hands outstretched. In the sight of
both men that light vanished from her face; her hands dropped to her
sides; she stood like stone.
Soames spun round, and met his visitor's eyes, and at the look he saw
in them, a sound like a snarl escaped him. He drew his lips back in the
ghost of a smile.
"This is my house," he said; "I manage my own affairs. I've told you
once--I tell you again; we are not at home."
And in young Jolyon's face he slammed the door.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Forsyte Saga, Volume I., by John Galsworthy
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FORSYTE SAGA, VOLUME I.
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