As he said to Major Scrotton, with whom he lunched at the Iseeum:  “That little Jew boy, Nathans, had given him the tip.  He didn’t care a cursh.  He wash in—­a mucker.  If it didn’t come up—­well then, damme, the old man would have to pay!”

A bottle of Pol Roger to his own cheek had given him a new contempt for James.

It came up.  Concertina was squeezed home by her neck—­a terrible squeak!  But, as Dartie said:  There was nothing like pluck!

He was by no means averse to the expedition to Richmond.  He would ‘stand’ it himself!  He cherished an admiration for Irene, and wished to be on more playful terms with her.

At half-past five the Park Lane footman came round to say:  Mrs. Forsyte was very sorry, but one of the horses was coughing!

Undaunted by this further blow, Winifred at once despatched little Publius (now aged seven) with the nursery governess to Montpellier Square.

They would go down in hansoms and meet at the Crown and Sceptre at 7.45.

Dartie, on being told, was pleased enough.  It was better than going down with your back to the horses!  He had no objection to driving down with Irene.  He supposed they would pick up the others at Montpellier Square, and swop hansoms there?

Informed that the meet was at the Crown and Sceptre, and that he would have to drive with his wife, he turned sulky, and said it was d—–­d slow!

At seven o’clock they started, Dartie offering to bet the driver half-a-crown he didn’t do it in the three-quarters of an hour.

Twice only did husband and wife exchange remarks on the way.

Dartie said:  “It’ll put Master Soames’s nose out of joint to hear his wife’s been drivin’ in a hansom with Master Bosinney!”

Winifred replied:  “Don’t talk such nonsense, Monty!”

“Nonsense!” repeated Dartie.  “You don’t know women, my fine lady!”

On the other occasion he merely asked:  “How am I looking?  A bit puffy about the gills?  That fizz old George is so fond of is a windy wine!”

He had been lunching with George Forsyte at the Haversnake.

Bosinney and Irene had arrived before them.  They were standing in one of the long French windows overlooking the river.

Windows that summer were open all day long, and all night too, and day and night the scents of flowers and trees came in, the hot scent of parching grass, and the cool scent of the heavy dews.

To the eye of the observant Dartie his two guests did not appear to be making much running, standing there close together, without a word.  Bosinney was a hungry-looking creature—­not much go about him.

He left them to Winifred, however, and busied himself to order the dinner.

A Forsyte will require good, if not delicate feeding, but a Dartie will tax the resources of a Crown and Sceptre.  Living as he does, from hand to mouth, nothing is too good for him to eat; and he will eat it.  His drink, too, will need to be carefully provided; there is much drink in this country ‘not good enough’ for a Dartie; he will have the best.  Paying for things vicariously, there is no reason why he should stint himself.  To stint yourself is the mark of a fool, not of a Dartie.