Read Online The Forsyte Saga by John Galsworthy - Free Book Online Page B

courtier’s; “you ought to go to Snileybob’s—he’ll give ’em you fresh. These
little
men, they won’t take the trouble!”
    Irene turned to answer him, and Soames saw Bosinney watching her and smiling to himself. A curious smile the fellow had. A half-simple arrangement, like a child who smiles when he is pleased. As for George’s nickname—“The Buccaneer”—he did not think much of that. And, seeing Bosinney turn to June, Soames smiled too, but sardonically—he did not like June, who was not looking too pleased.
    This was not surprising, for she had just held the following conversation with James:
    â€œI stayed on the river on my way home, Uncle James, and saw a beautiful site for a house.”
    James, a slow and thorough eater, stopped the process of mastication.
    â€œEh?” he said. “Now, where was that?”
    â€œClose to Pangbourne.”
    James placed a piece of ham in his mouth, and June waited.
    â€œI suppose
you
wouldn’t know whether the land about there was freehold?” he asked at last. “
You
wouldn’t know anything about the price of land about there?”
    â€œYes,” said June; “I made inquiries.” Her little resolute face under its copper crown was suspiciously eager and aglow.
    James regarded her with the air of an inquisitor.
    â€œWhat? You’re not thinking of buying land!” he ejaculated, dropping his fork.
    June was greatly encouraged by his interest. It had long been her pet plan that her uncles should benefit themselves and Bosinney by building country houses.
    â€œOf course not,” she said. “I thought it would be such a splendid place for—you or—someone to build a country house!”
    James looked at her sideways, and placed a second piece of ham in his mouth. . . .
    â€œLand ought to be very dear about there,” he said.
    What June had taken for personal interest was only the impersonal excitement of every Forsyte who hears of something eligible in danger of passing into other hands. But she refused to see the disappearance of her chance, and continued to press her point.
    â€œYou ought to go into the country, Uncle James. I wish I had a lot of money, I wouldn’t live another day in London.”
    James was stirred to the depths of his long thin figure; he had no idea his niece held such downright views.
    â€œWhy don’t you go into the country?” repeated June; “it would do you a lot of good.”
    â€œWhy?” began James in a fluster. “Buying land—what good d’you suppose I can do buying land, building houses?—I couldn’t get four per cent for my money!”
    â€œWhat does that matter? You’d get fresh air.”
    â€œFresh air!” exclaimed James; “what should I do with fresh air,”
    â€œI should have thought anybody liked to have fresh air,” said June scornfully.
    James wiped his napkin all over his mouth.
    â€œYou don’t know the value of money,” he said, avoiding her eye.
    â€œNo! and I hope I never shall!” and, biting her lip with inexpressible mortification, poor June was silent.
    Why were her own relations so rich, and Phil never knew where the money was coming from for tomorrow’s tobacco. Why couldn’t they do something for him? But they were so selfish. Why couldn’t they build country houses? She had all that naive dogmatism which is so pathetic, and sometimes achieves such great results. Bosinney, to whom she turned in her discomfiture, was talking to Irene, and a chill fell on June’s spirit. Her eyes grew steady with anger, like old Jolyon’s when his will was crossed.
    James, too, was much disturbed. He felt as though someone had threatened his right to invest his money at five per cent. Jolyon had spoiled her. None of
his
girls would have said such a thing. James had always been exceedingly liberal to his children, and the