And June put her lips to his forehead, and pressed them close.

But old Jolyon freed himself from her caress, his face wore the judicial look which came upon it when he dealt with affairs.  He asked:  What did she mean?  There was something behind all this—­had she been seeing Bosinney?

June answered:  “No; but I have been to his rooms.”

“Been to his rooms?  Who took you there?”

June faced him steadily.  “I went alone.  He has lost that case.  I don’t care whether it was right or wrong.  I want to help him; and I will!”

Old Jolyon asked again:  “Have you seen him?” His glance seemed to pierce right through the girl’s eyes into her soul.

Again June answered:  “No; he was not there.  I waited, but he did not come.”

Old Jolyon made a movement of relief.  She had risen and looked down at him; so slight, and light, and young, but so fixed, and so determined; and disturbed, vexed, as he was, he could not frown away that fixed look.  The feeling of being beaten, of the reins having slipped, of being old and tired, mastered him.

“Ah!” he said at last, “you’ll get yourself into a mess one of these days, I can see.  You want your own way in everything.”

Visited by one of his strange bursts of philosophy, he added:  “Like that you were born; and like that you’ll stay until you die!”

And he, who in his dealings with men of business, with Boards, with Forsytes of all descriptions, with such as were not Forsytes, had always had his own way, looked at his indomitable grandchild sadly—­for he felt in her that quality which above all others he unconsciously admired.

“Do you know what they say is going on?” he said slowly.

June crimsoned.

“Yes—­no!  I know—­and I don’t know—­I don’t care!” and she stamped her foot.

“I believe,” said old Jolyon, dropping his eyes, “that you’d have him if he were dead!”

There was a long silence before he spoke again.

“But as to buying this house—­you don’t know what you’re talking about!”

June said that she did.  She knew that he could get it if he wanted.  He would only have to give what it cost.

“What it cost!  You know nothing about it.  I won’t go to Soames—­I’ll have nothing more to do with that young man.”

“But you needn’t; you can go to Uncle James.  If you can’t buy the house, will you pay his lawsuit claim?  I know he is terribly hard up—­I’ve seen it.  You can stop it out of my money!”

A twinkle came into old Jolyon’s eyes.

“Stop it out of your money!  A pretty way.  And what will you do, pray, without your money?”

But secretly, the idea of wresting the house from James and his son had begun to take hold of him.  He had heard on Forsyte ’Change much comment, much rather doubtful praise of this house.  It was ‘too artistic,’ but a fine place.  To take from the ‘man of property’ that on which he had set his heart, would be a crowning triumph over James, practical proof that he was going to make a man of property of Jo, to put him back in his proper position, and there to keep him secure.  Justice once for all on those who had chosen to regard his son as a poor, penniless outcast.