"This is hardly the place--we'll go to the study,if you don't mind."And they both passed him through the curtain opening.In the little room to which he followed them,Irene stood by the open window,and the 'fellow'close to her by a big chair.Soames pulled the door to behind him with a slam;the sound carried him back all those years to the day when he had shut out Jolyon--shut him out for meddling with his affairs.

"Well,"he said,"what have you to say for yourselves?"The fellow had the effrontery to smile.

"What we have received to-day has taken away your right to ask.Ishould imagine you will be glad to have your neck out of chancery.""Oh!"said Soames;"you think so!I came to tell you that I'll divorce her with every circumstance of disgrace to you both,unless you swear to keep clear of each other from now on."He was astonished at his fluency,because his mind was stammering and his hands twitching.Neither of them answered;but their faces seemed to him as if contemptuous.

"Well,"he said;"you--Irene?"

Her lips moved,but Jolyon laid his hand on her arm.

"Let her alone!"said Soames furiously."Irene,will you swear it?""No."

"Oh!and you?"

"Still less."

"So then you're guilty,are you?"

"Yes,guilty."It was Irene speaking in that serene voice,with that unreached air which had maddened him so often;and,carried beyond himself,he cried:

"You are a devil"

"Go out!Leave this house,or I'll do you an injury."That fellow to talk of injuries!Did he know how near his throat was to being scragged?

"A trustee,"he said,"embezzling trust property!A thief,stealing his cousin's wife.""Call me what you like.You have chosen your part,we have chosen ours.Go out!"If he had brought a weapon Soames might have used it at that moment.

"I'll make you pay!"he said.

"I shall be very happy."

At that deadly turning of the meaning of his speech by the son of him who had nicknamed him 'the man of property,'Soames stood glaring.It was ridiculous!

There they were,kept from violence by some secret force.No blow possible,no words to meet the case.But he could not,did not know how to turn and go away.His eyes fastened on Irene's face--the last time he would ever see that fatal face--the last time,no doubt!

"You,"he said suddenly,"I hope you'll treat him as you treated me--that's all."He saw her wince,and with a sensation not quite triumph,not quite relief,he wrenched open the door,passed out through the hall,and got into his cab.He lolled against the cushion with his eyes shut.Never in his life had he been so near to murderous violence,never so thrown away the restraint which was his second nature.He had a stripped and naked feeling,as if all virtue had gone out of him--life meaningless,mind-striking work.Sunlight streamed in on him,but he felt cold.The scene he had passed through had gone from him already,what was before him would not materialise,he could catch on to nothing;and he felt frightened,as if he had been hanging over the edge of a precipice,as if with another turn of the screw sanity would have failed him.'I'm not fit for it,'

he thought;'I mustn't--I'm not fit for it.'The cab sped on,and in mechanical procession trees,houses,people passed,but had no significance.'I feel very queer,'he thought;'I'll take a Turkish bath.--I've been very near to something.It won't do.'

The cab whirred its way back over the bridge,up the Fulham Road,along the Park.

"To the Hammam,"said Soames.

Curious that on so warm a summer day,heat should be so comforting!

Crossing into the hot room he met George Forsyte coming out,red and glistening.

"Hallo!"said George;"what are you training for?You've not got much superfluous."Buffoon!Soames passed him with his sideway smile.Lying back,rubbing his skin uneasily for the first signs of perspiration,he thought:'Let them laugh!I won't feel anything!I can't stand violence!It's not good for me!'