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. Justice Bentham, the case of Forsyte v.
Bosinney.
Like a gambler who stakes his last piece of money, she had prepared to
hazard her all upon this throw; it was not her nature to contemplate
defeat. How, unless with the instinct of a woman in love, she knew that
Bosinney's discomfiture in this action was assured, cannot be told--on
this assumption, however, she laid her plans, as upon a certainty.
Half past eleven found her at watch in the gallery of Court XIII.,
and there she remained till the case of Forsyte v. Bosinney was over.
Bosinney's absence did not disquiet her; she had felt instinctively that
he would not defend himself. At the end of the judgment she hastened
down, and took a cab to his rooms.
She passed the open street-door and the offices on the three lower
floors without attracting notice; not till she reached the top did her
difficulties begin.
Her ring was not answered; she had now to make up her mind whether she
would go down and ask the caretaker in the basement to let her in to
await Mr. Bosinney's return, or remain patiently outside the door,
trusting that no one would, come up. She decided on the latter course.
A quarter of an hour had passed in freezing vigil on the landing, before
it occurred to her that Bosinney had been used to leave the key of
his rooms under the door-mat. She looked and found it there. For some
minutes she could not decide to make use of it; at last she let herself
in and left the door open that anyone who came might see she was there
on business.
This was not the same June who had paid the trembling visit five
months ago; those months of suffering and restraint had made her less
sensitive; she had dwelt on this visit so long, with such minuteness,
that its terrors were discounted beforehand. She was not there to fail
this time, for if she failed no one could help her.
Like some mother beast on the watch over her young, her little quick
figure never stood still in that room, but wandered from wall to wall,
from window to door, fingering now one thing, now another. There was
dust everywhere, the room could not have been cleaned for weeks, and
June, quick to catch at anything that should buoy up her hope, saw in
it a sign that he had been obliged, for economy's sake, to give up his
servant.