The Forsyte Saga, Volume 3(168)

‘Uncle Hilary,’ said Dinny.

‘Yes,’ said Lady Mont, coming to herself. ‘Hilary, May – Mr Desert.’

Hilary, of course, was entirely his usual self, but Aunt May looked as if she were greeting a dean. And almost at once Dinny was tacitly abandoned to her lover.

‘What do you think of Uncle Hilary?’

‘He looks like a man to go to in trouble.’

‘He is. He knows by instinct how not to run his head against brick walls, and yet he’s always in action. I suppose that comes of living in a slum. He agrees with Michael that to publish “The Leopard” is a mistake.’

‘Running my head against a brick wall – um?’

‘Yes.’

‘The die, as they say, is cast. Sorry if you’re sorry, Dinny.’

Dinny’s hand sought his. ‘No. Let’s sail under our proper colours – only, for my sake, Wilfrid, try to take what’s coming quietly, and so will I. Shall we hide behind this firework of fuchsias and slip off? They’ll expect it.’

Once outside the tent they moved towards the Embankment exit, past the rock gardens, each with its builder standing in the damp before it, as though saying: ‘Look on this, and employ me!’

‘Making nice things and having to cadge round to get people to notice them!’ said Dinny.

‘Where shall we go, Dinny?’

‘Battersea Park?’

‘Across this bridge, then.’

‘You were a darling to let me introduce them, but you did so look like a horse trying to back through its collar. I wanted to stroke your neck.’

‘I’ve got out of the habit of people.’

‘It’s nice not to be dependent on them.’

‘The worst mixer in the world. But you, I should have thought – ’

‘I only want you; I think I must have a nature like a dog’s. Without you, now, I should just be lost.’

The twitch of his mouth was better than an answer.

‘Ever seen the Lost Dogs’ Home? It’s over there.’

‘No. Lost dogs are dreadful to think about. Perhaps one ought to, though. Yes, let’s!’

The establishment had its usual hospitalized appearance of all being for the best considering that it was the worst. There was a certain amount of barking and of inquiry on the faces of a certain number of dogs. Tails wagged as they approached. Such dogs as were of any breed looked quieter and sadder than the dogs that were of no breed, and those in the majority. A black spaniel was sitting in a corner of the wired enclosure, with head drooped between long ears. They went round to him.

‘How on earth,’ said Dinny, ‘can a dog as nice as that stay unclaimed? He is sad!’

Wilfrid put his fingers through the wire. The dog looked up. They saw a little red under his eyes, and a wisp of hair loose and silky on his forehead. He raised himself slowly from off his haunches, and they could see him pant very slightly as though some calculation or struggle were going on in him.

‘Come on, old boy!’

The dog came slowly, all black, foursquare on his feathered legs. He had every sign of breeding, making his forlorn position more mysterious than ever. He stood almost within reach; his shortened tail fluttered feebly, then came to a droop again, precisely as if he had said: ‘I neglect no chance, but you are not.’

‘Well, old fellow?’ said Wilfrid.

Dinny bent down. ‘Give me a kiss.’

The dog looked up at them. His tail moved once, and again drooped.

‘Not a good mixer, either,’ said Wilfrid.

‘He’s too sad for words.’ She bent lower and this time got her hand through the wire. ‘Come, darling!’ The dog sniffed her glove. Again his tail fluttered feebly; a pink tongue showed for a moment as though to make certain of his lips. With a supreme effort Dinny’s fingers reached his muzzle smooth as silk.

‘He’s awfully well bred, Wilfrid.’

‘Stolen, I expect, and then got away. Probably from some country kennel.’

‘I believe I could hang dog-thieves.’

The dog’s dark-brown eyes had the remains of moisture in their corners. They looked back at Dinny, with suspended animation, as if saying: ‘You are not my past, and I don’t know if there is a future.’

She looked up. ‘Oh, Wilfrid!’

He nodded and left her with the dog. She stayed stooped on her heels, slowly scratching behind the dog’s ears, till Wilfrid, followed by a man with a chain and collar, came back.

‘I’ve got him,’ he said; ‘he reached his time-limit yesterday, but they were keeping him another week because of his looks.’

Dinny turned her back, moisture was oozing from her eyes. She mopped them hastily, and heard the man say: