Not that they were conscious of it--the visits of such fateful, bitter spirits are only felt. Then Swithin rose. He would not sit there, feeling like that--he was not to be put down by anyone! And, manoeuvring round the room with added pomp, he shook hands with each separately. "You tell Timothy from me," he said, "that he coddles himself too much!" Then, turning to Francie, whom he considered 'smart,' he added: "You come with me for a drive one of these days." But this conjured up the vision of that other eventful drive which had been so much talked about, and he stood quite still for a second, with glassy eyes, as though waiting to catch up with the significance of what he himself had said; then, suddenly recollecting that he didn't care a damn, he turned to old Jolyon: "Well, good-bye, Jolyon! You shouldn't go about without an overcoat; you'll be getting sciatica or something!" And, kicking the cat slightly with the pointed tip of his patent leather boot, he took his huge form away. When he had gone everyone looked secretly at the others, to see how they had taken the mention of the word 'drive'--the word which had become famous, and acquired an overwhelming importance, as the only official--so to speak--news in connection with the vague and sinister rumour clinging to the family tongue. Euphemia, yielding to an impulse, said with a short laugh: "I'm glad Uncle Swithin doesn't ask me to go for drives." Mrs. Small, to reassure her and smooth over any little awkwardness the subject might have, replied: "My dear, he likes to take somebody well dressed, who will do him a little credit. I shall never forget the drive he took me. It was an experience!" And her chubby round old face was spread for a moment with a strange contentment; then broke into pouts, and tears came into her eyes. She was thinking of that long ago driving tour she had once taken with Septimus Small. James, who had relapsed into his nervous brooding in the little chair, suddenly roused himself: "He's a funny fellow, Swithin," he said, but in a half-hearted way. Old Jolyon's silence, his stern eyes, held them all in a kind of paralysis. He was disconcerted himself by the effect of his own words--an effect which seemed to deepen the importance of the very rumour he had come to scotch; but he was still angry. He had not done with them yet--No, no--he would give them another rub or two. He did not wish to rub his nieces, he had no quarrel with them--a young and presentable female always appealed to old Jolyon's clemency--but that fellow James, and, in a less degree perhaps, those others, deserved all they would get. And he, too, asked for Timothy. As though feeling that some danger threatened her younger brother, Aunt Juley suddenly offered him tea: "There it is," she said, "all cold and nasty, waiting for you in the back drawing room, but Smither shall make you some fresh."