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the lack of the sight of her would cause, beyond the grave disapproval of the worthy. But few men, and especially few men of Soames' class, had imagination enough for that. A deal of mortals in this world, and not enough imagination to go round! And sweet Heaven, what a difference between theory and practice; many a man, perhaps even Soames, held chivalrous views on such matters, who when the shoe pinched found a distinguishing factor that made of himself an exception.

       Then, too, he distrusted his judgment. He had been through the experience himself, had tasted too the dregs the bitterness of an unhappy marriage, and how could he take the wide and dispassionate view of those who had never been within sound of the bat-tle? His evidence was too first-hand--like the evidence on military matters of a soldier who has been through much active service, against that of civilians who have not suffered the disadvantage of seeing things too close. Most people would consider such a marriage as that of Soames and Irene quite fairly successful; he had money, she had beauty; it was a case for compromise. There was no reason why they should not jog along, even if they hated each other. It would not matter if they went their own ways a little so long as the decencies were observed--the sanctity of the marriage tie, of the common home, respected. Half the marriages of the upper

       classes were conducted on these lines: Do not offend the susceptibilities of Society; do not offend the susceptibilities of the Church. To avoid offending these is worth the sacrifice of any private feelings. The advantages of the stable home are visible, tangible, so many pieces of property; there is no risk in the statu quo. To break up a home is at the best a dangerous experiment, and selfish into the bargain.

       This was the case for the defence, and young Jolyon sighed.

       'The core of it all,' he thought, 'is property, but there are many people who would not like it put that way. To them it is "the sanctity of the marriage tie"; but the sanctity of the marriage tie is dependent on the sanctity of the family, and the sanctity of the family

       is dependent on the sanctity of property. And yet I imagine all these people are followers of One who never owned anything. It is

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       curious!

       And again young Jolyon sighed.

       'Am I going on my way home to ask any poor devils I meet to share my dinner, which will then be too little for myself, or, at all events, for my wife, who is necessary to my health and happiness? It may be that after all Soames does well to exercise his rights and support by his practice the sacred principle of property which benefits us all, with the exception of those who suffer by the process.'

       And so he left his chair, threaded his way through the maze of seats, took his hat, and languidly up the hot streets crowded with carriages, reeking with dusty odours, wended his way home.

       Before reaching Wistaria Avenue he removed old Jolyon's letter from his pocket, and tearing it carefully into tiny pieces, scattered them in the dust of the road.

       He let himself in with his key, and called his wife's name. But she had gone out, taking Jolly and Holly, and the house was empty;

       alone in the garden the dog Balthasar lay in the shade snapping at flies. Young Jolyon took his seat there, too, under the pear-tree that bore no fruit.

       CHAPTER XI--BOSINNEY ON PAROLE

       The day after the evening at Richmond Soames returned from Henley by a morning train. Not constitutionally interested in amphibi-

       ous sports, his visit had been one of business rather than pleasure, a client of some importance having asked him down.

       He went straight to the City, but finding things slack, he left at three o'clock, glad of this chance to get home quietly. Irene did not expect him. Not that he had any desire to spy on her actions, but there was no harm in thus unexpectedly surveying the scene.

       After changing to Park clothes he went into the drawing-room. She was sitting idly in the corner of the sofa, her favourite seat; and there were circles under her eyes, as though she had not slept.

       He asked: "How is it you're in? Are you expecting somebody?"

       "Yes that is, not particularly."

       "Who?"

       "Mr. Bosinney said he might come." "Bosinney. He ought to be at work." To this she made no answer.

       "Well," said Soames, "I want you to come out to the Stores with me, and after that we'll go to the Park." "I don't want to go out; I have a headache."

       Soames replied: "If ever I want you to do anything, you've always got a headache. It'll do you good to come and sit under the trees." She did not answer.

       Soames was silent for some minutes; at last he said: "I don't know what your idea of a wife's duty is. I never have known!"

       He had not expected her to reply, but she did.

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       "I have tried to do what you want; it's not my fault that I haven't been able to put my heart into it." "Whose fault is it, then?" He watched her askance.

       "Before we were married you promised to let me go if our marriage was not a success. Is it a success?"

       Soames frowned.

       "Success," he stammered--"it would be a success if you behaved yourself properly!" "I have tried," said Irene. "Will you let me go?"

       Soames turned away. Secretly alarmed, he took refuge in bluster.

       "Let you go? You don't know what you're talking about. Let you go? How can I let you go? We're married, aren't we? Then, what are you talking about? For God's sake, don't let's have any of this sort of nonsense! Get your hat on, and come and sit in the Park."

       "Then, you won't let me go?"

       He felt her eyes resting on him with a strange, touching look.

       "Let you go!" he said; "and what on earth would you do with yourself if I did? You've got no money!"

       "I could manage somehow."

       He took a swift turn up and down the room; then came and stood before her.

       "Understand," he said, "once and for all, I won't have you say this sort of thing. Go and get your hat on!" She did not move.

       "I suppose," said Soames, "you don't want to miss Bosinney if he comes!" Irene got up slowly and left the room. She came down with her hat on. They went out.

       In the Park, the motley hour of mid-afternoon, when foreigners and other pathetic folk drive, thinking themselves to be in fashion, had passed; the right, the proper, hour had come, was nearly gone, before Soames and Irene seated themselves under the Achilles statue.

       It was some time since he had enjoyed her company in the Park. That was one of the past delights of the first two seasons of his married life, when to feel himself the possessor of this gracious creature before all London had been his greatest, though secret, pride. How many afternoons had he not sat beside her, extremely neat, with light grey gloves and faint, supercilious smile, nodding to acquaintances, and now and again removing his hat.

       His light grey gloves were still on his hands, and on his lips his smile sardonic, but where the feeling in his heart?

       The seats were emptying fast, but still he kept her there, silent and pale, as though to work out a secret punishment. Once or twice he made some comment, and she bent her head, or answered "Yes" with a tired smile.

       Along the rails a man was walking so fast that people stared after him when he passed.

       "Look at that ass!" said Soames; "he must be mad to walk like that in this heat!"

       He turned; Irene had made a rapid movement.

       "Hallo!" he said: "it's our friend the Buccaneer!"

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       And he sat still, with his sneering smile, conscious that Irene was sitting still, and smiling too.

       "Will she bow to him?" he thought.

       But she made no sign.

       Bosinney reached the end of the rails, and came walking back amongst the chairs, quartering his ground like a pointer. When he saw

      

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