But old Jolyon was thinking: “No money!” What fate could compare with that? Every other was involved in it.

“I wish you had come to me,” he said. “Why didn’t you?” But Irene did not answer.

“Because my name was Forsyte, I suppose? Or was it June who kept you away? How are you getting on now?” His eyes involuntarily swept her body. Perhaps even now she was⁠—! And yet she wasn’t thin⁠—not really!

“Oh! with my fifty pounds a year, I make just enough.” The answer did not reassure him; he had lost confidence. And that fellow Soames! But his sense of justice stifled condemnation. No, she would certainly have died rather than take another penny from him . Soft as she looked, there must be strength in her somewhere⁠—strength and fidelity. But what business had young Bosinney to have got run over and left her stranded like this!