Threading over Hammersmith Bridge, Fleur regained the self-possession she had never seemed to lose. She spoke lightly of light matters, letting Jon grow accustomed to proximity.
‘I go down every evening about this time, to see to my chores, and drive up in the morning early. So any afternoon you like I can take you as far as Dorking. Why shouldn’t we see a little of each other in a friendly way, Jon?’
‘When we do, it doesn’t seem to make for happiness, Fleur.’
‘My dear boy, what is happiness? Surely life should be as harmlessly full as it can be?’
‘Harmlessly!’
‘The Rafaelite says you have a terrible conscience, Jon.’
‘The Rafaelite’s a bounder.’
‘Yes; but a clever one. You have changed, you usen’t to have that line between your eyes, and your jaw’s getting too strong. Look, Jon dear, be a friend to me – as they say, and we won’t think of anything else. I always like Wimbledon Common – it hasn’t been caught up yet. Have you bought that farm?’
‘Not quite.’
‘Let’s go by way of Robin Hill, and look at it through the trees? It might inspire you to a poem.’
‘I shall never write any more verse. It’s quite gone.’
‘Nonsense, Jon. You only want stirring up. Don’t I drive well, considering I’ve only been at it five weeks?’
‘You do everything well, Fleur.’
‘You say that as if you disapproved. Do you know we’d never danced together before that night at Nettlefold? Shall we ever dance together again?’
‘Probably not.’
‘Optimistic Jon; That’s right – smile! Look! Is that the church where you were baptized?’
‘I wasn’t.’
‘Oh! No. That was the period, of course, when people were serious about those things. I believe I was done twice over – R.C. and Anglican. That’s why I’m not so religious as you, Jon.’
‘Religious? I’m not religious.’
‘I fancy you are. You have moral backbone, anyway.’
‘Really!’
‘Jon, you remind me of American notices outside their properties – “Stop – look – take care – keep out!” I suppose you think me a frightful butterfly.’
‘No, Fleur. Far from it. The butterfly has no knowledge of a straight line between two points.’
‘Now what do you mean by that?’
‘That you set your heart on things.’
‘Did you get that from the Rafaelite?’
‘No, but he confirmed it.’
‘He did – did he? That young man talks too much. Has he expounded to you his theory that a woman must possess the soul of someone else, and that a man is content with bodies?’
‘He has.’
‘Is it true?’
‘I hate to agree with him, but I think it is, in a way.’
‘Well, I can tell you there are plenty of women about now who keep their own souls and are content with other people’s bodies.’
‘Are you one of them, Fleur?’
‘Ask me another! There’s Robin Hill!’
The fount of Forsyte song and story stood grey and imposing among its trees, with the sinking sun aslant on a front where green sun-blinds were still down.
Jon sighed. ‘I had a lovely time there.’
‘Till I came and spoiled it.’
‘No; that’s blasphemy.’
Fleur touched his arm.
‘That’s nice of you, dear Jon. You always were nice, and I shall always love you – in a harmless way. The coppice looks jolly. God had a brain-wave when He invented larches.’
‘Yes. Holly says that the coppice was my grandfather’s favourite spot.’
‘Old Jolyon – who wouldn’t marry his beloved, because she was consumptive?’
‘I never heard that. But he was a great old fellow, my father and mother adored him.’
‘I’ve seen his photographs – don’t get a chin like his, Jon! The Forsytes all have such chins. June’s frightens me.’
‘June is one of the best people on earth.’
‘Oh! Jon, you are horribly loyal.’
‘Is that an offence?’
‘It makes everything terribly earnest in a world that isn’t worth it. No, don’t quote Longfellow. When you get home, shall you tell Anne you’ve been driving with me?’
‘Why not?’
‘She’s uneasy about me as it is, isn’t she? You needn’t answer, Jon. But I think it’s unfair of her. I want so little, and you’re so safe.’
‘Safe?’ It seemed to Fleur that he closed his teeth on the word, and for a moment she was happy.
‘Now you’ve got your lion cub look. Do lion cubs have consciences? It’s going to be rather interesting for the Rafaelite. I think your conscience might stop before telling Anne, though. It’s a pity to worry her if she has a talent for uneasiness.’ Then, by the silence at her side, she knew she had made a mistake.