Sensitive to atmosphere, Jolyon soon felt the latent antagonism between
the boys, and was puzzled by Holly; so he became unconsciously ironical,
which is fatal to the expansiveness of youth. A letter, handed to him
after dinner, reduced him to a silence hardly broken till Jolly and Val
rose to go. He went out with them, smoking his cigar, and walked with
his son to the gates of Christ Church. Turning back, he took out the
letter and read it again beneath a lamp.
"DEAR JOLYON,
"Soames came again to-night--my thirty-seventh birthday. You were right,
I mustn't stay here. I'm going to-morrow to the Piedmont Hotel, but I
won't go abroad without seeing you. I feel lonely and down-hearted.
"Yours affectionately,
"IRENE."
He folded the letter back into his pocket and walked on, astonished at
the violence of his feelings. What had the fellow said or done?
He turned into High Street, down the Turf, and on among a maze of spires
and domes and long college fronts and walls, bright or dark-shadowed in
the strong moonlight. In this very heart of England's gentility it was
difficult to realise that a lonely woman could be importuned or hunted,
but what else could her letter mean? Soames must have been pressing her
to go back to him again, with public opinion and the Law on his side,
too! 'Eighteen-ninety-nine!,' he thought, gazing at the broken glass
shining on the top of a villa garden wall; 'but when it comes to
property we're still a heathen people! I'll go up to-morrow morning. I
dare say it'll be best for her to go abroad.' Yet the thought displeased
him. Why should Soames hunt her out of England! Besides, he might
follow, and out there she would be still more helpless against the
attentions of her own husband! 'I must tread warily,' he thought; 'that
fellow could make himself very nasty. I didn't like his manner in the
cab the other night.' His thoughts turned to his daughter June. Could
she help? Once on a time Irene had been her greatest friend, and now she
was a 'lame duck,' such as must appeal to June's nature! He determined
to wire to his daughter to meet him at Paddington Station. Retracing his
steps towards the Rainbow he questioned his own sensations. Would he be
upsetting himself over every woman in like case? No! he would not. The
candour of this conclusion discomfited him; and, finding that Holly had
gone up to bed, he sought his own room. But he could not sleep, and
sat for a long time at his window, huddled in an overcoat, watching the
moonlight on the roofs.