Now that June had gone and left, or as good as left him, it would have been a comfort to see his son again.

Guilty of this treason to his family, his principles, his class, old Jolyon fixed his eyes on the singer.

A poor thing--a wretched poor thing! And the Florian a perfect stick! It was over.

They were easily pleased nowadays! In the crowded street he snapped up a cab under the very nose of a stout and much younger gentleman, who had already assumed it to be his own.
His route lay through Pall Mall, and at the corner, instead of going through the Green Park, the cabman turned to drive up St.James's Street.

Old Jolyon put his hand through the trap (he could not bear being taken out of his way); in turning, however, he found himself opposite the 'Hotch Potch,' and the yearning that had been secretly with him the whole evening prevailed.