June answered that she had not, she hated the stuffy things; and rose to
leave.
Mrs. Small's infallibly chosen silence was far more ominous to her than
anything that could have been said.
Before half an hour was over she had dragged the truth from Mrs. Baynes
in Lowndes Square, that Soames was bringing an action against Bosinney
over the decoration of the house.
Instead of disturbing her, the news had a strangely calming effect; as
though she saw in the prospect of this struggle new hope for herself.
She learnt that the case was expected to come on in about a month, and
there seemed little or no prospect of Bosinney's success.
"And whatever he'll do I can't think," said Mrs. Baynes; "it's very
dreadful for him, you know--he's got no money--he's very hard up. And we
can't help him, I'm sure. I'm told the money-lenders won't lend if you
have no security, and he has none--none at all."
Her embonpoint had increased of late; she was in the full swing of
autumn organization, her writing-table literally strewn with the menus
of charity functions. She looked meaningly at June, with her round eyes
of parrot-grey.
The sudden flush that rose on the girl's intent young face--she must
have seen spring up before her a great hope--the sudden sweetness of
her smile, often came back to Lady Baynes in after years (Baynes was
knighted when he built that public Museum of Art which has given so much
employment to officials, and so little pleasure to those working classes
for whom it was designed).
The memory of that change, vivid and touching, like the breaking open
of a flower, or the first sun after long winter, the memory, too, of all
that came after, often intruded itself, unaccountably, inopportunely on
Lady Baynes, when her mind was set upon the most important things.
This was the very afternoon of the day that young Jolyon witnessed the
meeting in the Botanical Gardens, and on this day, too, old Jolyon
paid a visit to his solicitors, Forsyte, Bustard, and Forsyte, in the
Poultry. Soames was not in, he had gone down to Somerset House; Bustard
was buried up to the hilt in papers and that inaccessible apartment,
where he was judiciously placed, in order that he might do as much work
as possible; but James was in the front office, biting a finger, and
lugubriously turning over the pleadings in Forsyte v. Bosinney.
This sound lawyer had only a sort of luxurious dread of the 'nice
point,' enough to set up a pleasurable feeling of fuss; for his good
practical sense told him that if he himself were on the Bench he would
not pay much attention to it. But he was afraid that this Bosinney would
go bankrupt and Soames would have to find the money after all, and costs
into the bargain. And behind this tangible dread there was always
that intangible trouble, lurking in the background, intricate, dim,
scandalous, like a bad dream, and of which this action was but an
outward and visible sign.