“Jolly’s at the ‘House,’ but he’ll be delighted to look you up.”
“Thanks awfully.”
“Holly’s in—if you could put up with a female relation, she’d show you round. You’ll find her in the hall if you go through the curtains. I was just painting her.”
With another “Thanks, awfully!” Val vanished, leaving the two cousins with the ice unbroken.
“I see you’ve some drawings at the ‘Water Colours,’” said Soames.
Jolyon winced. He had been out of touch with the Forsyte family at large for twenty-six years, but they were connected in his mind with Frith’s “Derby Day” and Landseer prints. He had heard from June that Soames was a connoisseur, which made it worse. He had become aware, too, of a curious sensation of repugnance.
“I haven’t seen you for a long time,” he said.
“No,” answered Soames between close lips, “not since—as a matter of fact, it’s about that I’ve come. You’re her trustee, I’m told.”
Jolyon nodded.
“Twelve years is a long time,” said Soames rapidly: “I—I’m tired of it.”