Aunt Juley went on rather hastily:

“They say dear Jolyon first left her that fifteen thousand out and out; then of course he saw it would not be right, andmade it for her life only.”

Had Soames heard that?

Soames nodded.

“Your cousin Jolyon is a widower now. He is her trustee; you knew that, of course?”

Soames shook his head. He did know, but wished to show no interest. Young Jolyon and he had not met since the day ofBosinney’s death.

“He must be quite middle-aged by now,” went on Aunt Juley dreamily. “Let me see, he was born when your dear uncle livedin Mount Street; long before they went to Stanhope Gate in December. Just before that dreadful Commune. Over fifty! Fancythat! Such a pretty baby, and we were all so proud of him; the very first of you all.” Aunt Juley sighed, and a lock of notquite her own hair came loose and straggled, so that Aunt Hester gave a little shiver. Soames rose, he was experiencing acurious piece of self-discovery. That old wound to his pride and self-esteem was not yet closed. He had come thinking hecould talk of it, even wanting to talk of his fettered condition, and — behold! he was shrinking away from this reminder byAunt Juley, renowned for her Malapropisms.

Oh, Soames was not going already!

Soames smiled a little vindictively, and said:

“Yes. Good-bye. Remember me to Uncle Timothy!” And, leaving a cold kiss on each forehead, whose wrinkles seemed to tryand cling to his lips as if longing to be kissed away, he left them looking brightly after him — dear Soames, it had been sogood of him to come to-day, when they were not feeling very....!

With compunction tweaking at his chest Soames descended the stairs, where was always that rather pleasant smell of