THEFOR SYTE

SAGA

JohnGalsworthy

CONTENT SDedication

Preface

BookI—TheManofProperty

Dedication

PartIChapterI—“AtHome”atOldJolyon’sChapterII—OldJolyonGoestotheOperaChapterIII—DinneratSwithin’sChapterIV—ProjectionoftheHouse

ChapterV—AForsyteMénageChapterVI—JamesatLargeChapterVII—OldJolyon’sPeccadilloChapterVIII—PlansoftheHouseChapterIX—DeathofAuntAnn

PartII

ChapterI—ProgressoftheHouseChapterII—June’sTreatChapterIII—DrivewithSwithinChapterIV—JamesGoestoSeeforHimselfChapterV—SoamesandBosinneyCorrespondChapterVI—OldJolyonattheZoo

ChapterVII—AfternoonatTimothy’sChapterVIII—DanceatRoger’sChapterIX—EveningatRichmondChapterX—DiagnosisofaForsyteChapterXI—BosinneyonParoleChapterXII—JunePays

SomeCallsChapterXIII—PerfectionoftheHouseChapterXIV—SoamesSitsontheStairs

PartIIIChapterI—Mrs.MacAnder’sEvidenceChapterII—NightintheParkChapterIII—Meetingatthe

BotanicalChapterIV—VoyageintotheInfernoChapterV—TheTrialChapterVI—SoamesBreakstheNewsChapterVII—June’sVictoryChapterVIII—Bosinney’sDepartureChapterIX—Irene’sReturn

Interlude—IndianSummerofaForsyte

DedicationChapterIChapterIIChapterIIIChapterIVChapterV

BookII—InChancery

Dedication

PartIChapterI—AtTimothy’sChapterII—ExitaManoftheWorldChapterIII—SoamesPreparestoTakeStepsChapterIV—SohoChapterV—JamesSeesVisions

ChapterVI—No-Longer-YoungJolyonatHomeChapterVII—TheColtandtheFillyChapterVIII—JolyonProsecutesTrusteeshipChapterIX—ValHearstheNewsChapterX—SoamesEntertainstheFutureChapterXI—AndVisitsthe

PastChapterXII—OnForsyte’ChangeChapterXIII—JolyonFindsOutWhereHeIsChapterXIV—SoamesDiscoversWhatHeWants

PartIIChapterI—TheThirdGeneration

ChapterII—SoamesPutsIttotheTouchChapterIII—VisittoIreneChapterIV—WhereForsytesFeartoTreadChapterV—JollySitsinJudgmentChapterVI—JolyoninTwoMindsChapterVII—DartieversusDartie

ChapterVIII—TheChallengeChapterIX—DinneratJames’sChapterX—DeathoftheDogBalthasarChapterXI—TimothyStaystheRotChapterXII—ProgressoftheChaseChapterXIII—“HereWeAreAgain!”

ChapterXIV—OutlandishNight

PartIIIChapterI—SoamesinParisChapterII—IntheWebChapterIII—RichmondParkChapterIV—OvertheRiverChapterV—SoamesActsChapterVI—ASummerDayChapterVII—ASummer

NightChapterVIII—JamesinWaitingChapterIX—OutoftheWebChapterX—PassingofanAgeChapterXI—SuspendedAnimationChapterXII—BirthofaForsyteChapterXIII—JamesIsTold

ChapterXIV—His

Interlude—Awakening

BookIII—ToLet

Dedication

PartIChapterI—EncounterChapterII—FineFleurForsyte

ChapterIII—AtRobinHillChapterIV—TheMausoleumChapterV—TheNativeHeathChapterVI—JonChapterVII—FleurChapterVIII—IdyllonGrassChapterIX—GoyaChapterX—TrioChapterXI—DuetChapterXII—Caprice

PartIIChapterI—MotherandSonChapterII—FathersandDaughtersChapterIII—MeetingsChapterIV—InGreenStreetChapterV—PurelyForsyteAffairsChapterVI—Soames’sPrivateLifeChapterVII—JuneTakesa

HandChapterVIII—TheBitBetweentheTeethChapterIX—TheFatintheFireChapterX—DecisionChapterXI—TimothyProphesies

PartIIIChapterI—OldJolyonWalks

ChapterII—ConfessionChapterIII—IreneChapterIV—SoamesCogitatesChapterV—TheFixedIdeaChapterVI—DesperateChapterVII—EmbassyChapterVIII—TheDarkTuneChapterIX—UndertheOakTree

ChapterX—Fleur’sWeddingChapterXI—TheLastoftheOldForsytes

AbouttheAuthor

AbouttheSeries

Copyright

AboutthePublisher

DED I CAT I ON

ToMYWIFE

IdedicateTheForsyteSagainitsentirety,believingittobeofallmyworktheleastunworthyofonewithoutwhoseencouragement,sympathyandcriticismIcouldneverhavebecomeevensuchawriterasIam.

P R E FACE

TheForsyteSagawasthetitleoriginallydestinedforthatpartofitwhichiscalled“TheManofProperty”;and

toadoptitforthecollectedchroniclesoftheForsytefamilyhasindulgedtheForsyteantenacitythatisinallofus.Thewordsagamightbeobjectedtoonthegroundthatitconnotestheheroicandthatthereislittleheroisminthesepages.Butitisusedwithasuitableirony;and,afterall,thislongtale,

thoughitmaydealwithfolkinfrockcoats,furbelows,andagilt-edgedperiod,isnotdevoidoftheessentialheatofconflict.Discountingforthegiganticstatureandblood-thirstinessofolddays,astheyhavecomedowntousinfairytaleandlegend,thefolkoftheoldSagaswereForsytes,assuredly,intheir

possessiveinstincts,andaslittleproofagainsttheinroadsofbeautyandpassionasSwithin,Soames,orevenYoungJolyon.Andifheroicfigures,indaysthatneverwere,seemtostartleoutfromtheirsurroundingsinfashionunbecomingtoaForsyteoftheVictorianera,wemaybesurethattribalinstinctwas

eventhentheprimeforce,andthat“family”andthesenseofhomeandpropertycountedastheydotothisday,foralltherecenteffortsto“talkthemout.”

SomanypeoplehavewrittenandclaimedthattheirfamiliesweretheoriginalsoftheForsytesthatonehasbeenalmostencouragedtobelieve

inthetypicalityofanimaginedspecies.Mannerschangeandmodesevolve,and“Timothy’sontheBayswaterRoad”becomesanestoftheunbelievableinallexceptessentials;weshallnotlookuponitslikeagain,norperhapsonsuchaoneasJamesorOldJolyon.Andyetthefiguresofinsurance

societiesandtheutterancesofjudgesreassureusdailythatourearthlyparadiseisstillarichpreserve,wherethewildraiders,beautyandpassion,comestealingin,filchingsecurityfrombeneathournoses.Assurelyasadogwillbarkatabrassband,sowilltheessentialSoamesinhumannatureeverriseup

uneasilyagainstthedissolutionwhichhoversroundthefoldsofownership.

“Letthedeadpastburyitsdead”wouldbeabettersayingifthepasteverdied.Thepersistenceofthepastisoneofthosetragi-comicblessingswhicheachnewagedenies,comingcocksureontothestagetomouthitsclaim

toaperfectnovelty.Butnoageissonewas

that!Humannature,underitschangingpretensionsandclothes,isandeverwillbeverymuchofaForsyte,andmight,afterall,beamuchworseanimal.

LookingbackontheVictorianera,whoseripeness,decline,and“fall-of”isin

somesortpicturedinTheForsyteSaga,weseenowthatwehavebutjumpedoutofafryingpanintoafire.ItwouldbedifficulttosubstantiateaclaimthatthecaseofEnglandwasbetterin1913thanitwasin1886,whentheForsytesassembledatOldJolyon’stocelebratetheengagementofJuneto

PhilipBosinney.Andin1920,whenagaintheclangatheredtoblessthemarriageofFleurwithMichaelMont,thestateofEnglandisassurelytoomoltenandbankruptasintheeightiesitwastoocongealedandlow-percented.Ifthesechronicleshadbeenareallyscientificstudyoftransitiononewould

havedweltprobablyonsuchfactorsastheinventionofbicycle,motorcar,andflying-machine;thearrivalofacheappress;thedeclineofcountrylifeandincreaseofthetowns;thebirthofthecinema.Menare,infact,quiteunabletocontroltheirowninventions;theyatbestdevelopadaptabilitytothe

newconditionsthoseinventionscreate.

Butthislongtaleisnoscientificstudyofaperiod;itisratheranintimateincarnationofthedisturbancethatbeautyeffectsinthelivesofmen.

ThefigureofIrene,never,asthereadermaypossiblyhaveobserved,present,

exceptthroughthesensesofothercharacters,isaconcretionofdisturbingbeautyimpingingonapossessiveworld.

Onehasnoticedthatreaders,astheywadeonthroughthesaltwatersofthesaga,areinclinedmoreandmoretopitySoames,andtothinkthatindoingsotheyare

inrevoltagainstthemoodofhiscreator.Farfromit!He,too,pitiesSoames,thetragedyofwhoselifeistheverysimple,uncontrollabletragedyofbeingunlovable,withoutquiteathickenoughskintobethoroughlyunconsciousofthefact.NotevenFleurlovesSoamesashefeelsheoughttobeloved.

ButinpityingSoames,readersincline,perhaps,toanimusagainstIrene:Afterall,theythink,hewasn’tabadfellow,itwasn’thisfault;sheoughttohaveforgivenhim,andsoon!

And,takingsides,theyloseperceptionofthesimpletruth,whichunderliesthewholestory,thatwheresex

attractionisutterlyanddefinitelylackinginonepartnertoaunion,noamountofpity,orreason,orduty,orwhatnot,canovercomearepulsionimplicitinnature.Whetheritoughtto,orno,isbesidethepoint;becauseinfactitneverdoes.AndwhereIreneseemshardandcruel,asintheBoisdeBoulogne,or

theGoupenorGallery,sheisbutwiselyrealistic—knowingthattheleastconcessionistheinchwhichprecedestheimpossible,therepulsiveell.

AcriticismonemightpassonthelastphaseofthesagaisthecomplaintthatIreneandJolyon—thoserebelsagainstproperty—claimspiritualpropertyin

theirsonJon.Butitwouldbehypercriticism,asthetaleistold.NofatherandmothercouldhavelettheboymarryFleurwithoutknowledgeofthefacts;andthefactsdetermineJon,notthepersuasionofhisparents.Moreover,Jolyon’spersuasionisnotonhisownaccount,butonIrene’s,and

Irene’spersuasionbecomesareiterated:“Don’tthinkofme,thinkofyourself!”ThatJon,knowingthefacts,canrealisehismother’sfeelings,willhardlywithjusticebeheldproofthatsheis,afterall,aForsyte.

Butthoughtheimpingementofbeautyandtheclaimsoffreedomona

possessiveworldarethemainprepossessionsofTheForsyteSaga,itcannotbeabsolvedfromthechargeofembalmingtheupper-middleclass.AstheoldEgyptiansplacedaroundtheirmummiesthenecessariesofafutureexistence,soIhaveendeavouredtolaybesidethefiguresofAuntsAnnand

JuleyandHester,ofTimothyandSwithin,ofOldJolyonandJames,andoftheirsons,thatwhichshallguaranteethemalittlelifehere-after,alittlebalminthehurriedGileadofadissolving“Progress.”

Iftheupper-middleclass,withotherclasses,isdestinedto“moveon”into

amorphism,here,pickledinthesepages,itliesunderglassforstrollersinthewideandill-arrangedmuseumofletters.Hereitrests,preservedinitsownjuice:TheSenseofProperty.

1922JOHNGALSWORTHY

BOOK I

TheManofProperty

“...Youwillanswer

‘Theslavesare

ours.’...”—TheMerchantof

Venice

DED I CAT I ON

ToEdwardGarnett

PART I

CHAP T ERI

“AtHome”atOldJolyon’s

ThoseprivilegedtobepresentatafamilyfestivaloftheForsyteshaveseenthatcharmingandinstructivesight—anuppermiddle-classfamilyinfullplumage.Butwhosoeverofthesefavouredpersonshaspossessedthegiftofpsychologicalanalysis(atalentwithoutmonetaryvalueandproperlyignoredbythe

Forsytes),haswitnessedaspectacle,notonlydelightfulinitself,butillustrativeofanobscurehumanproblem.Inplainerwords,hehasgleanedfromagatheringofthisfamily—nobranchofwhichhadalikingfortheother,betweennothreemembersofwhomexistedanythingworthyofthenameof

sympathy—evidenceofthatmysteriousconcretetenacitywhichrendersafamilysoformidableaunitofsociety,soclearareproductionofsocietyinminiature.Hehasbeenadmittedtoavisionofthedimroadsofsocialprogress,hasunderstoodsomethingofpatriarchallife,oftheswarmingsofsavage

hordes,oftheriseandfallofnations.Heislikeonewho,havingwatchedatreegrowfromitsplanting—aparagonoftenacity,insulation,andsuccess,amidstthedeathsofahundredotherplantslessfibrous,sappy,andpersistent—onedaywillseeitflourishingwithbland,fullfoliage,inanalmost

repugnantprosperity,atthesummitofitsefflorescence.

OnJune15,1886,aboutfouroftheafternoon,theobserverwhochancedtobepresentatthehouseofoldJolyonForsyteinStanhopeGate,mighthaveseenthehighestefflorescenceoftheForsytes.

Thiswastheoccasionof

an“athome”tocelebratetheengagementofMissJuneForsyte,oldJolyon’sgranddaughter,toMr.PhilipBosinney.Inthebraveryoflightgloves,buffwaistcoats,feathersandfrocks,thefamilywerepresent,evenAuntAnn,whonowbutseldomleftthecornerofherbrotherTimothy’sgreen

drawingroom,where,undertheaegisofaplumeofdyedpampasgrassinalightbluevase,shesatalldayreadingandknitting,surroundedbytheeffigiesofthreegenerationsofForsytes.EvenAuntAnnwasthere;herinflexibleback,andthedignityofhercalmoldfacepersonifyingtherigid

possessivenessofthefamilyidea.

WhenaForsytewasengaged,married,orborn,theForsyteswerepresent;whenaForsytedied—butnoForsytehadasyetdied;theydidnotdie;deathbeingcontrarytotheirprinciples,theytookprecautionsagainstit,theinstinctiveprecautions

ofhighlyvitalizedpersonswhoresentencroachmentsontheirproperty.

AbouttheForsytesminglingthatdaywiththecrowdofotherguests,therewasamorethanordinarilygroomedlook,analert,inquisitiveassurance,abrilliantrespectability,asthoughtheywereattiredin

defianceofsomething.ThehabitualsniffonthefaceofSoamesForsytehadspreadthroughtheirranks;theywereontheirguard.

ThesubconsciousoffensivenessoftheirattitudehasconstitutedoldJolyon’shomethepsychologicalmomentofthefamilyhistory,madeitthepreludeoftheir

drama.TheForsyteswere

resentfulofsomething,notindividually,butasafamily;thisresentmentexpresseditselfinanaddedperfectionofraiment,anexuberanceoffamilycordiality,anexaggerationoffamilyimportance,and—thesniff.Danger—soindispensablein

bringingoutthefundamentalqualityofanysociety,group,orindividual—waswhattheForsytesscented;thepremonitionofdangerputaburnishontheirarmour.Forthefirsttime,asafamily,theyappearedtohaveaninstinctofbeingincontact,withsomestrangeandunsafething.

Overagainstthepianoamanofbulkandstaturewaswearingtwowaistcoatsonhiswidechest,twowaistcoatsandarubypin,insteadofthesinglesatinwaistcoatanddiamondpinofmoreusualoccasions,andhisshaven,square,oldface,thecolourofpaleleather,withpaleeyes,haditsmostdignifiedlook,

abovehissatinstock.ThiswasSwithinForsyte.Closetothewindow,wherehecouldgetmorethanhisfairshareoffreshair,theothertwin,James—thefatandtheleanofit,oldJolyoncalledthesebrothers—likethebulkySwithin,oversixfeetinheight,butverylean,asthoughdestinedfromhis

birthtostrikeabalanceandmaintainanaverage,broodedoverthescenewithhispermanentstoop;hisgreyeyeshadanairoffixedabsorptioninsomesecretworry,brokenatintervalsbyarapid,shiftingscrutinyofsurroundingfacts;hischeeks,thinnedbytwoparallelfolds,andalong,clean-shaven

upperlip,wereframedwithinDundrearywhiskers.Inhishandsheturnedandturnedapieceofchina.Notfaroff,listeningtoaladyinbrown,hisonlysonSoames,paleandwell-shaved,dark-haired,ratherbald,hadpokedhischinupsideways,carryinghisnosewiththataforesaidappearanceof“sniff,”as

thoughdespisinganeggwhichheknewhecouldnotdigest.Behindhimhiscousin,thetallGeorge,sonofthefifthForsyte,Roger,hadaQuilpishlookonhisfleshyface,ponderingoneofhissardonicjests.Somethinginherenttotheoccasionhadaffectedthemall.

Seatedinarowcloseto

oneanotherwerethreeladies—AuntsAnn,Hester(thetwoForsytemaids),andJuley(shortforJulia),whonotinfirstyouthhadsofarforgottenherselfastomarrySeptimusSmall,amanofpoorconstitution.Shehadsurvivedhimformanyyears.Withherelderandyoungersistershelivednowinthe

houseofTimothy,hersixthandyoungestbrother,ontheBayswaterRoad.Eachoftheseladiesheldfansintheirhands,andeachwithsometouchofcolour,someemphaticfeatherorbrooch,testifiedtothesolemnityoftheopportunity.

Inthecentreoftheroom,underthechandelier,as

becameahost,stoodtheheadofthefamily,oldJolyonhimself.Eightyyearsofage,withhisfine,whitehair,hisdome-likeforehead,hislittle,darkgreyeyes,andanimmensewhitemoustache,whichdroopedandspreadbelowthelevelofhisstrongjaw,hehadapatriarchallook,andinspiteofleancheeks

andhollowsathistemples,seemedmasterofperennialyouth.Heheldhimselfextremelyupright,andhisshrewd,steadyeyeshadlostnoneoftheirclearshining.Thushegaveanimpressionofsuperioritytothedoubtsanddislikesofsmallermen.Havinghadhisownwayforinnumerableyears,hehad

earnedaprescriptiverighttoit.ItwouldneverhaveoccurredtooldJolyonthatitwasnecessarytowearalookofdoubtorofdefiance.

Betweenhimandthefourotherbrotherswhowerepresent,James,Swithin,Nicholas,andRoger,therewasmuchdifference,muchsimilarity.Inturn,eachof

thesefourbrotherswasverydifferentfromtheother,yetthey,too,werealike.

Throughthevaryingfeaturesandexpressionofthosefivefacescouldbemarkedacertainsteadfastnessofchin,underlyingsurfacedistinctions,markingaracialstamp,tooprehistoricto

trace,tooremoteandpermanenttodiscuss—theveryhallmarkandguaranteeofthefamilyfortunes.

Amongtheyoungergeneration,inthetall,bull-likeGeorge,inpallidstrenuousArchibald,inyoungNicholaswithhissweetandtentativeobstinacy,inthegraveandfoppishly

determinedEustace,therewasthissamestamp—lessmeaningfulperhaps,butunmistakable—asignofsomethingineradicableinthefamilysoul.Atonetimeoranotherduringtheafternoon,allthesefaces,sodissimilarandsoalike,hadwornanexpressionofdistrust,theobjectofwhichwas

undoubtedlythemanwhoseacquaintancetheywerethusassembledtomake.PhilipBosinneywasknowntobeayoungmanwithoutfortune,butForsytegirlshadbecomeengagedtosuchbefore,andhadactuallymarriedthem.Itwasnotaltogetherforthisreason,therefore,thatthemindsoftheForsytes

misgavethem.Theycouldnothaveexplainedtheoriginofamisgivingobscuredbythemistoffamilygossip.AstorywasundoubtedlytoldthathehadpaidhisdutycalltoAuntsAnn,Juley,andHester,inasoftgreyhat—asoftgreyhat,notevenanewone—adustythingwithashapelesscrown.“So,

extraordinary,mydear—soodd,”AuntHester,passingthroughthelittle,darkhall(shewasrathershort-sighted),hadtriedto“shoo”itoffachair,takingitforastrange,disreputablecat—Tommyhadsuchdisgracefulfriends!Shewasdisturbedwhenitdidnotmove.

Likeanartistforever

seekingtodiscoverthesignificanttriflewhichembodiesthewholecharacterofascene,orplace,orperson,sothoseunconsciousartists—theForsyteshadfastenedbyintuitiononthishat;itwastheirsignificanttrifle,thedetailinwhichwasembeddedthemeaningofthewholematter;foreachhad

askedhimself:“Come,now,shouldIhavepaidthatvisitinthathat?”andeachhadanswered“No!”andsome,withmoreimaginationthanothers,hadadded:“Itwouldneverhavecomeintomyhead!”

George,onhearingthestory,grinned.Thehathadobviouslybeenwornasa

practicaljoke!Hehimselfwasaconnoisseurofsuch.“Veryhaughty!”hesaid,“thewildbuccaneer.”

Andthismot,the“buccaneer,”wasbandiedfrommouthtomouth,tillitbecamethefavouritemodeofalludingtoBosinney.

HerauntsreproachedJuneafterwardsaboutthehat.

“Wedon’tthinkyououghttolethim,dear!”theyhadsaid.

Junehadansweredinherimperiousbriskway,likethelittleembodimentofwillshewas:“Oh!whatdoesitmatter?Philneverknowswhathe’sgoton!”

Noonehadcreditedananswersooutrageous.Aman

nottoknowwhathehadon?No,no!Whatindeedwasthisyoungman,who,inbecomingengagedtoJune,oldJolyon’sacknowledgedheiress,haddonesowellforhimself?Hewasanarchitect,notinitselfasufficientreasonforwearingsuchahat.NoneoftheForsyteshappenedtobearchitects,but

oneofthemknewtwoarchitectswhowouldneverhavewornsuchahatuponacallofceremonyintheLondonseason.

Dangerous—ah,dangerous!June,ofcourse,hadnotseenthis,but,thoughnotyetnineteen,shewasnotorious.HadshenotsaidtoMrs.Soames—whowas

alwayssobeautifullydressed—thatfeatherswerevulgar?Mrs.Soameshadactuallygivenupwearingfeathers,sodreadfullydownrightwasdearJune!

Thesemisgivings,thisdisapproval,andperfectlygenuinedistrust,didnotpreventtheForsytesfromgatheringtooldJolyon’s

invitation.An“AtHome”atStanhopeGatewasagreatrarity;nonehadbeenheldfortwelveyears,notindeed,sinceoldMrs.Jolyonhaddied.

Neverhadtherebeensofullanassembly,for,mysteriouslyunitedinspiteofalltheirdifferences,theyhadtakenarmsagainsta

commonperil.Likecattlewhenadogcomesintothefield,theystoodheadtoheadandshouldertoshoulder,preparedtorunuponandtrampletheinvadertodeath.Theyhadcome,too,nodoubt,togetsomenotionofwhatsortofpresentstheywouldultimatelybeexpectedtogive;forthoughthe

questionofweddinggiftswasusuallygraduatedinthisway:“Whatareyougivin’?Nicholasisgivin’spoons!”—soverymuchdependedonthebridegroom.Ifheweresleek,well-brushed,prosperous-looking,itwasmorenecessarytogivehimnicethings;hewouldexpectthem.Intheendeachgave

exactlywhatwasrightandproper,byaspeciesoffamilyadjustmentarrivedataspricesarearrivedatonthestockexchange—theexactnicetiesbeingregulatedatTimothy’scommodious,red-brickresidenceinBayswater,overlookingthepark,wheredweltAuntsAnn,Juley,andHester.

TheuneasinessoftheForsytefamilyhasbeenjustifiedbythesimplementionofthehat.Howimpossibleandwrongwouldithavebeenforanyfamily,withtheregardforappearanceswhichshouldevercharacterizethegreatuppermiddle-class,tofeelotherwisethanuneasy!

TheauthoroftheuneasinessstoodtalkingtoJunebythefurtherdoor;hiscurlyhairhadarumpledappearance,asthoughhefoundwhatwasgoingonaroundhimunusual.Hehadanair,too,ofhavingajokealltohimself.George,speakingasidetohisbrother,Eustace,said:

“Looksasifhemightmakeaboltofit—thedashingBuccaneer!”

This“verysingular-lookingman,”asMrs.Smallafterwardscalledhim,wasofmediumheightandstrongbuild,withapale,brownface,adust-colouredmoustache,veryprominentcheekbones,andhollow

checks.Hisforeheadslopedbacktowardsthecrownofhishead,andbulgedoutinbumpsovertheeyes,likeforeheadsseeninthelionhouseatthezoo.Hehadsherry-colouredeyes,disconcertinglyinattentiveattimes.OldJolyon’scoachman,afterdrivingJuneandBosinneytothetheatre,

hadremarkedtothebutler:“Idunnowhattomakeof

’im.Lookstomeforalltheworldlikean’alf-tameleopard.”AndeverynowandthenaForsytewouldcomeup,sidleround,andtakealookathim.

Junestoodinfront,fendingoffthisidlecuriosity—alittlebitofathing,as

somebodyoncesaid,“allhairandspirit,”withfearlessblueeyes,afirmjaw,andabrightcolour,whosefaceandbodyseemedtooslenderforhercrownofred-goldhair.

Atallwoman,withabeautifulfigure,whichsomememberofthefamilyhadoncecomparedtoaheathengoddess,stoodlookingat

thesetwowithashadowysmile.

Herhands,glovedinFrenchgrey,werecrossedoneovertheother,hergrave,charmingfaceheldtooneside,andtheeyesofallmennearwerefastenedonit.Herfigureswayed,sobalancedthattheveryairseemedtosetitmoving.Therewaswarmth,

butlittlecolour,inhercheeks;herlarge,darkeyesweresoft.

Butitwasatherlips—askingaquestion,givingananswer,withthatshadowysmile—thatmenlooked;theyweresensitivelips,sensuousandsweet,andthroughthemseemedtocomewarmthandperfumelikethewarmthand

perfumeofaflower.Theengagedcouplethus

scrutinizedwereunconsciousofthispassivegoddess.ItwasBosinneywhofirstnoticedher,andaskedhername.

Junetookherloveruptothewomanwiththebeautifulfigure.

“Ireneismygreatest

chum,”shesaid:“Pleasebegoodfriends,youtwo!”

Atthelittlelady’scommandtheyallthreesmiled;andwhiletheyweresmiling,SoamesForsyte,silentlyappearingfrombehindthewomanwiththebeautifulfigure,whowashiswife,said:

“Ah!introducemetoo!”

Hewasseldom,indeed,farfromIrene’ssideatpublicfunctions,andevenwhenseparatedbytheexigenciesofsocialintercourse,couldbeseenfollowingheraboutwithhiseyes,inwhichwerestrangeexpressionsofwatchfulnessandlonging.

Atthewindowhisfather,James,wasstillscrutinizing

themarksonthepieceofchina.

“IwonderatJolyon’sallowingthisengagement,”hesaidtoAuntAnn.“Theytellmethere’snochanceoftheirgettingmarriedforyears.ThisyoungBosinney”(hemadethewordadactylinoppositiontogeneralusageofashorto)“hasgotnothing.

WhenWinifredmarriedDartie,Imadehimbringeverypennyintosettlement—luckything,too—they’dha’hadnothingbythistime!”

AuntAnnlookedupfromhervelvetchair.Greycurlsbandedherforehead,curlsthat,unchangedfordecades,hadextinguishedinthefamilyallsenseoftime.She

madenoreply,forsherarelyspoke,husbandingheragedvoice;buttoJames,uneasyofconscience,herlookwasasgoodasananswer.

“Well,”hesaid,“Icouldn’thelpIrene’shavingnomoney.Soameswasinsuchahurry;hegotquitethindancingattendanceonher.”

Puttingthebowlpettishly

downonthepiano,helethiseyeswandertothegroupbythedoor.

“It’smyopinion,”hesaidunexpectedly,“thatit’sjustaswellasitis.”

AuntAnndidnotaskhimtoexplainthisstrangeutterance.Sheknewwhathewasthinking.IfIrenehadnomoneyshewouldnotbeso

foolishastodoanythingwrong;fortheysaid—theysaid—shehadbeenaskingforaseparateroom;but,ofcourse,Soameshadnot....

Jamesinterruptedherreverie:

“Butwhere,”heasked,“wasTimothy?Hadn’thecomewiththem?”

ThroughAuntAnn’s

compressedlipsatendersmileforceditsway:

“No,hedidn’tthinkitwise,withsomuchofthisdiphtheriaabout;andhesoliabletotakethings.”

Jamesanswered:“Well,hetakesgoodcare

ofhimself.Ican’taffordtotakethecareofmyselfthathedoes.”

Norwasiteasytosaywhich,ofadmiration,envy,orcontempt,wasdominantinthatremark.

Timothy,indeed,wasseldomseen.Thebabyofthefamily,apublisherbyprofession,hehadsomeyearsbefore,whenbusinesswasatfulltide,scentedoutthestagnationwhich,indeed,had

notyetcome,butwhichultimately,asallagreed,wasboundtosetin,and,sellinghisshareinafirmengagedmainlyintheproductionofreligiousbooks,hadinvestedthequiteconspicuousproceedsinthreepercentconsols.Bythisacthehadatonceassumedanisolatedposition,nootherForsyte

beingcontentwithlessthanfourpercentforhismoney;andthisisolationhadslowlyandsurelyunderminedaspiritperhapsbetterthancommonlyendowedwithcaution.Hehadbecomealmostamyth—akindofincarnationofsecurityhauntingthebackgroundoftheForsyteuniverse.Hehad

nevercommittedtheimprudenceofmarrying,orencumberinghimselfinanywaywithchildren.

Jamesresumed,tappingthepieceofchina:

“Thisisn’trealoldWorcester.Is’poseJolyon’stoldyousomethingabouttheyoungman.FromallIcanlearn,he’sgotnobusiness,no

income,andnoconnectionworthspeakingof;butthen,Iknownothing—nobodytellsmeanything.”

AuntAnnshookherhead.Overhersquare-chinned,aquilineoldfaceatremblingpassed;thespideryfingersofherhandspressedagainsteachotherandinterlaced,asthoughsheweresubtly

rechargingherwill.Theeldestbysomeyears

ofalltheForsytes,sheheldapeculiarpositionamongstthem.Opportunistsandegotistsoneandall—thoughnot,indeed,moresothantheirneighbours—theyquailedbeforeherincorruptiblefigure,and,whenopportunitiesweretoo

strong,whatcouldtheydobutavoidher!

Twistinghislong,thinlegs,Jameswenton:

“Jolyon,hewillhavehisownway.He’sgotnochildren”—andstopped,recollectingthecontinuedexistenceofoldJolyon’sson,youngJolyon,June’sfather,whohadmadesuchamessof

it,anddoneforhimselfbydesertinghiswifeandchildandrunningawaywiththatforeigngoverness.“Well,”heresumedhastily,“ifhelikestodothesethings,Is’posehecanaffordto.Now,what’shegoingtogiveher?Is’posehe’llgiveherathousandayear;he’sgotnobodyelsetoleavehismoneyto.”

Hestretchedouthishandtomeetthatofadapper,clean-shavenman,withhardlyahaironhishead,along,brokennose,fulllips,andcoldgreyeyesunderrectangularbrows.

“Well,Nick,”hemuttered,“howareyou?”

NicholasForsyte,withhisbirdlikerapidityandthelook

ofapreternaturallysageschoolboy(hehadmadealargefortune,quitelegitimately,outofthecompaniesofwhichhewasadirector),placedwithinthatcoldpalmthetipsofhisstillcolderfingersandhastilywithdrewthem.

“I’mbad,”hesaid,pouting—“beenbadallthe

week;don’tsleepatnight.Thedoctorcan’ttellwhy.He’sacleverfellow,orIshouldn’thavehim,butIgetnothingoutofhimbutbills.”

“Doctors!”saidJames,comingdownsharponhiswords:“I’vehadallthedoctorsinLondonforoneoranotherofus.There’snosatisfactiontobegotoutof

them;they’lltellyouanything.There’sSwithin,now.Whatgoodhavetheydonehim?Thereheis;he’sbiggerthanever;he’senormous;theycan’tgethisweightdown.Lookathim!”

SwithinForsyte,tall,square,andbroad,withachestlikeapouterpigeon’sinitsplumageofbright

waistcoats,camestruttingtowardsthem.

“Er—howareyou?”hesaidinhisdandifiedway,aspiratingthe“h”strongly(thisdifficultletterwasalmostabsolutelysafeinhiskeeping)—“howareyou?”

Eachbrotherworeanairofaggravationashelookedattheothertwo,knowingby

experiencethattheywouldtrytoeclipsehisailments.

“Wewerejustsaying,”saidJames,“thatyoudon’tgetanythinner.”

Swithinprotrudedhispaleroundeyeswiththeeffortofhearing.

“Thinner?I’mingoodcase,”hesaid,leaningalittleforward,“notoneofyour

thread-paperslikeyou!”But,afraidoflosingthe

expansionofhischest,heleanedbackagainintoastateofimmobility,forheprizednothingsohighlyasadistinguishedappearance.

AuntAnnturnedheroldeyesfromonetotheother.Indulgentandseverewasherlook.Inturnthethree

brotherslookedatAnn.Shewasgettingshaky.Wonderfulwoman!Eighty-sixifaday;mightliveanothertenyears,andhadneverbeenstrong.SwithinandJames,thetwins,wereonlyseventy-five,Nicholasamerebabyofseventyorso.Allwerestrong,andtheinferencewascomforting.Ofallformsof

propertytheirrespectivehealthsnaturallyconcernedthemmost.

“I’mverywellinmyself,”proceededJames,“butmynervesareoutoforder.Theleastthingworriesmetodeath.IshallhavetogotoBath.”

“Bath!”saidNicholas.“I’vetriedHarrogate.That’s

nogood.WhatIwantisseaair.There’snothinglikeYarmouth.Now,whenIgothereIsleep....”

“Myliver’sverybad,”interruptedSwithinslowly.“Dreadfulpainhere;”andheplacedhishandonhisrightside.

“Wantofexercise,”mutteredJames,hiseyeson

thechina.Hequicklyadded:“Igetapainthere,too.”

Swithinreddened,aresemblancetoaturkey-cockcominguponhisoldface.

“Exercise!”hesaid.“Itakeplenty:Ineverusetheliftattheclub.”

“Ididn’tknow,”Jameshurriedout.“Iknownothingaboutanybody;nobodytells

meanything....”Swithinfixedhimwitha

stare:“Whatdoyoudofora

painthere?”Jamesbrightened.“Itakeacompound....”“Howareyou,uncle?”Junestoodbeforehim,

herresolutesmallfaceraisedfromherlittleheighttohis

greatheight,andherhandout-held.

ThebrightnessfadedfromJames’svisage.

“Howareyou?”hesaid,broodingoverher.“Soyou’regoingtoWalestomorrowtovisityouryoungman’saunts?You’llhavealotofrainthere.Thisisn’trealoldWorcester.”Hetappedthe

bowl.“Now,thatsetIgaveyourmotherwhenshemarriedwasthegenuinething.”

Juneshookhandsonebyonewithherthreegreat-uncles,andturnedtoAuntAnn.Averysweetlookhadcomeintotheoldlady’sface,shekissedthegirl’scheekwithtremblingfervour.

“Well,mydear,”shesaid,“andsoyou’regoingforawholemonth!”

Thegirlpassedon,andAuntAnnlookedafterherslimlittlefigure.Theoldlady’sround,steelgreyeyes,overwhichafilmlikeabird’swasbeginningtocome,followedherwistfullyamongstthebustlingcrowd,

forpeoplewerebeginningtosaygoodbye;andherfingertips,pressingandpressingagainsteachother,werebusyagainwiththerechargingofherwillagainstthatinevitableultimatedepartureofherown.

“Yes,”shethought,“everybody’sbeenmostkind;quitealotofpeoplecometo

congratulateher.Sheoughttobeveryhappy.”Amongstthethrongofpeoplebythedoor,thewell-dressedthrongdrawnfromthefamiliesoflawyersanddoctors,fromthestockexchange,andalltheinnumerableavocationsoftheupper-middleclass—therewereonlysometwentypercentofForsytes;butto

AuntAnntheyseemedallForsytes—andcertainlytherewasnotmuchdifference—shesawonlyherownfleshandblood.Itwasherworld,thisfamily,andsheknewnoother,hadneverperhapsknownanyother.Alltheirlittlesecrets,illnesses,engagements,andmarriages,howtheyweregettingon,

andwhethertheyweremakingmoney—allthiswasherproperty,herdelight,herlife;beyondthisonlyavague,shadowymistoffactsandpersonsofnorealsignificance.Thisitwasthatshewouldhavetolaydownwhenitcametoherturntodie;thiswhichgavetoherthatimportance,thatsecret

self-importance,withoutwhichnoneofuscanbeartolive;andtothissheclungwistfully,withagreedthatgreweachday!Iflifewereslippingawayfromher,thisshewouldretaintotheend.

ShethoughtofJune’sfather,youngJolyon,whohadrunawaywiththatforeigngirl.Andwhatasad

blowtohisfatherandtothemall.Suchapromisingyoungfellow!Asadblow,thoughtherehadbeennopublicscandal,mostfortunately,Jo’swifeseekingfornodivorce!Alongtimeago!AndwhenJune’smotherdied,sixyearsago,Johadmarriedthatwoman,andtheyhadtwochildrennow,soshe

hadheard.Still,hehadforfeitedhisrighttobethere,hadcheatedherofthecompletefulfilmentofherfamilypride,deprivedheroftherightfulpleasureofseeingandkissinghimofwhomshehadbeensoproud,suchapromisingyoungfellow!Thethoughtrankledwiththebitternessofalong-inflicted

injuryinhertenaciousoldheart.Alittlewaterstoodinhereyes.Withahandkerchiefofthefinestlawnshewipedthemstealthily.

“Well,AuntAnn?”saidavoicebehind.

SoamesForsyte,flat-shouldered,clean-shaven,flat-cheeked,flat-waisted,yetwithsomethingroundand

secretabouthiswholeappearance,lookeddownwardsandaslantatAuntAnn,asthoughtryingtoseethroughthesideofhisownnose.

“Andwhatdoyouthinkoftheengagement?”heasked.

AuntAnn’seyesrestedonhimproudly;ofallthe

nephewssinceyoungJolyon’sdeparturefromthefamilynest,hewasnowherfavourite,forsherecognisedinhimasuretrusteeofthefamilysoulthatmustsosoonslipbeyondherkeeping.

“Verynicefortheyoungman,”shesaid;“andhe’sagood-lookingyoungfellow;butIdoubtifhe’squitethe

rightloverfordearJune.”Soamestouchedtheedge

ofagold-lacqueredlustre.“She’lltamehim,”he

said,stealthilywettinghisfingerandrubbingitontheknobbybulbs.“That’sgenuineoldlacquer;youcan’tgetitnowadays.It’ddowellinasaleatJobson’s.”Hespokewithrelish,asthough

hefeltthathewascheeringuphisoldaunt.Itwasseldomhewassoconfidential.“Iwouldn’tmindhavingitmyself,”headded;“youcanalwaysgetyourpriceforoldlacquer.”

“You’resocleverwithallthosethings,”saidAuntAnn.“AndhowisdearIrene?”

Soames’ssmiledied.

“Prettywell,”hesaid.“Complainsshecan’tsleep;shesleepsagreatdealbetterthanIdo,”andhelookedathiswife,whowastalkingtoBosinneybythedoor.

AuntAnnsighed.“Perhaps,”shesaid,“it

willbejustaswellforhernottoseesomuchofJune.She’ssuchadecidedcharacter,dear

June!”Soamesflushed;his

flushespassedrapidlyoverhisflatcheeksandcenteredbetweenhiseyes,wheretheyremained,thestampofdisturbingthoughts.

“Idon’tknowwhatsheseesinthatlittleflibbertigibbet,”heburstout,butnoticingthattheywereno

longeralone,heturnedandagainbeganexaminingthelustre.

“TheytellmeJolyon’sboughtanotherhouse,”saidhisfather’svoicecloseby;“hemusthavealotofmoney—hemusthavemoremoneythanheknowswhattodowith!MontpellierSquare,theysay;closetoSoames!

Theynevertoldme,Irenenevertellsmeanything!”

“Capitalposition,nottwominutesfromme,”saidthevoiceofSwithin,“andfrommyroomsIcandrivetotheclubineight.”

ThepositionoftheirhouseswasofvitalimportancetotheForsytes,norwasthisremarkable,

sincethewholespiritoftheirsuccesswasembodiedtherein.

Theirfather,offarmingstock,hadcomefromDorsetshirenearthebeginningofthecentury.

“SuperiorDossetForsyte,”ashewascalledbyhisintimates,hadbeenastonemasonbytrade,and

risentothepositionofamaster-builder.

TowardstheendofhislifehemovedtoLondon,where,buildingonuntilhedied,hewasburiedatHighgate.Heleftoverthirtythousandpoundsbetweenhistenchildren.OldJolyonalludedtohim,ifatall,as“Ahard,thicksortofman;not

muchrefinementabouthim.”ThesecondgenerationofForsytesfeltindeedthathewasnotgreatlytotheircredit.TheonlyaristocratictraittheycouldfindinhischaracterwasahabitofdrinkingMadeira.

AuntHester,anauthorityonfamilyhistory,describedhimthus:

“Idon’trecollectthatheeverdidanything;atleast,notinmytime.Hewaser—anownerofhouses,mydear.HishairaboutyourUncleSwithin’scolour;ratherasquarebuild.Tall?No—notverytall”(hehadbeenfivefeetfive,withamottledface);“afresh-colouredman.Irememberheusedtodrink

Madeira;butaskyourAuntAnn.Whatwashisfather?He—er—hadtodowiththelanddowninDorsetshire,bythesea.”

Jamesoncewentdowntoseeforhimselfwhatsortofplacethiswasthattheyhadcomefrom.Hefoundtwooldfarms,withacarttrackruttedintothepinkearth,leading

downtoamillbythebeach;alittlegreychurchwithabuttressedouterwall,andasmallerandgreyerchapel.Thestreamwhichworkedthemillcamebubblingdowninadozenrivulets,andpigswerehuntingroundthatestuary.Ahazehoveredovertheprospect.Downthishollow,withtheirfeetdeepinthe

mudandtheirfacestowardsthesea,itappearedthattheprimevalForsyteshadbeencontenttowalkSundayafterSundayforhundredsofyears.

WhetherornoJameshadcherishedhopesofaninheritance,orofsomethingratherdistinguishedtobefounddownthere,hecamebacktotowninapoorway,

andwentaboutwithapatheticattemptatmakingthebestofabadjob.

“There’sverylittletobehadoutofthat,”hesaid;“regularcountrylittleplace,oldasthehills....”

Itsagewasfelttobeacomfort.OldJolyon,inwhomadesperatehonestywelledupattimes,would

alludetohisancestorsas:“Yeomen—Isupposeverysmallbeer.”Yethewouldrepeattheword“yeomen”asifitaffordedhimconsolation.

Theyhadalldonesowellforthemselves,theseForsytes,thattheywereallwhatiscalled“ofacertainposition.”Theyhadsharesinallsortsofthings,notasyet

—withtheexceptionofTimothy—inconsols,fortheyhadnodreadinlifelikethatofthreepercentfortheirmoney.Theycollectedpictures,too,andweresupportersofsuchcharitableinstitutionsasmightbebeneficialtotheirsickdomestics.Fromtheirfather,thebuilder,theyinheriteda

talentforbricksandmortar.Originally,perhaps,membersofsomeprimitivesect,theywerenowinthenaturalcourseofthingsmembersoftheChurchofEngland,andcausedtheirwivesandchildrentoattendwithsomeregularitythemorefashionablechurchesofthemetropolis.Tohavedoubted

theirChristianitywouldhavecausedthembothpainandsurprise.Someofthempaidforpews,thusexpressinginthemostpracticalformtheirsympathywiththeteachingsofChrist.

Theirresidences,placedatstatedintervalsroundthepark,watchedlikesentinels,lestthefairheartofthis

London,wheretheirdesireswerefixed,shouldslipfromtheirclutches,andleavethemlowerintheirownestimations.

TherewasoldJolyoninStanhopePlace;theJamesesinParkLane;SwithininthelonelygloryoforangeandbluechambersinHydeParkMansions—hehadnever

married,nothe—theSoamsesintheirnestoffKnightsbridge;theRogersinPrince’sGardens(RogerwasthatremarkableForsytewhohadconceivedandcarriedoutthenotionofbringinguphisfoursonstoanewprofession.“Collecthouseproperty,nothinglikeit,”hewouldsay;“Ineverdidanything

else”).TheHaymansagain—

Mrs.HaymanwastheonemarriedForsytesister—inahousehighuponCampdenHill,shapedlikeagiraffe,andsotallthatitgavetheobserveracrickintheneck;theNicholasesinLadbrokeGrove,aspaciousabodeandagreatbargain;andlast,but

notleast,Timothy’sontheBayswaterRoad,whereAnn,andJuley,andHester,livedunderhisprotection.

ButallthistimeJameswasmusing,andnowheinquiredofhishostandbrotherwhathehadgivenforthathouseinMontpellierSquare.Hehimselfhadhadhiseyeonahousetherefor

thelasttwoyears,buttheywantedsuchaprice.

OldJolyonrecountedthedetailsofhispurchase.

“Twenty-twoyearstorun?”repeatedJames;“TheveryhouseIwasafter—you’vegiventoomuchforit!”

OldJolyonfrowned.“It’snotthatIwantit,”

saidJameshastily;“itwouldn’tsuitmypurposeatthatprice.Soamesknowsthehouse,well—he’lltellyouit’stoodear—hisopinion’sworthhaving.”

“Idon’t,”saidoldJolyon,“careafigforhisopinion.”

“Well,”murmuredJames,“youwillhaveyourownway—it’sagoodopinion.

Goodbye!We’regoingtodrivedowntoHurlingham.TheytellmeJune’sgoingtoWales.You’llbelonelytomorrow.What’llyoudowithyourself?You’dbettercomeanddinewithus!”

OldJolyonrefused.Hewentdowntothefrontdoorandsawthemintotheirbarouche,andtwinkledat

them,havingalreadyforgottenhisspleen—Mrs.Jamesfacingthehorses,tallandmajesticwithauburnhair;onherleft,Irene—thetwohusbands,fatherandson,sittingforward,asthoughtheyexpectedsomething,oppositetheirwives.Bobbingandboundinguponthespringcushions,silent,swayingto

eachmotionoftheirchariot,oldJolyonwatchedthemdriveawayunderthesunlight.

DuringthedrivethesilencewasbrokenbyMrs.James.

“Didyoueverseesuchacollectionofrumty-toopeople?”

Soames,glancingather

beneathhiseyelids,nodded,andhesawIrenestealathimoneofherunfathomablelooks.ItislikelyenoughthateachbranchoftheForsytefamilymadethatremarkastheydroveawayfromoldJolyon’s“AtHome!”

Amongstthelastofthedepartinggueststhefourthandfifthbrothers,Nicholas

andRoger,walkedawaytogether,directingtheirstepsalongsideHydeParktowardsthePraedStreetstationoftheUnderground.LikeallotherForsytesofacertainagetheykeptcarriagesoftheirown,andnevertookcabsifbyanymeanstheycouldavoidit.

Thedaywasbright,thetreesoftheparkinthefull

beautyofmid-Junefoliage;thebrothersdidnotseemtonoticephenomena,whichcontributed,nevertheless,tothejauntinessofpromenadeandconversation.

“Yes,”saidRoger,“she’sagood-lookin’woman,thatwifeofSoames’s.I’mtoldtheydon’tgeton.”

Thisbrotherhadahigh

forehead,andthefreshestcolourofanyoftheForsytes;hislightgreyeyesmeasuredthestreetfrontageofthehousesbytheway,andnowandthenhewouldlevelhis,umbrellaandtakea“lunar,”asheexpressedit,ofthevaryingheights.

“She’dnomoney,”repliedNicholas.

Hehimselfhadmarriedagooddealofmoney,ofwhich,itbeingthenthegoldenagebeforetheMarriedWomen’sPropertyAct,hehadmercifullybeenenabledtomakeasuccessfuluse.

“Whatwasherfather?”“Heronwashisname,a

professor,sotheytellme.”

Rogershookhishead.“There’snomoneyin

that,”hesaid.“Theysayhermother’s

fatherwascement.”Roger’sfacebrightened.“Buthewentbankrupt,”

wentonNicholas.“Ah!”exclaimedRoger,

“Soameswillhavetroublewithher;youmarkmy

words,he’llhavetrouble—she’sgotaforeignlook.”

Nicholaslickedhislips.“She’saprettywoman,”

andhewavedasideacrossing-sweeper.

“Howdidhegetholdofher?”askedRogerpresently.“Shemustcosthimaprettypennyindress!”

“Anntellsme,”replied

Nicholas,“hewashalf-crackedabouther.Sherefusedhimfivetimes.James,he’snervousaboutit,Icansee.”

“Ah!”saidRogeragain;“I’msorryforJames;hehadtroublewithDartie.”Hispleasantcolourwasheightenedbyexercise,heswunghisumbrellatothe

levelofhiseyemorefrequentlythanever.Nicholas’sfacealsoworeapleasantlook.

“Toopaleforme,”hesaid,“butherfigure’scapital!”

Rogermadenoreply.“Icallherdistinguished-

looking,”hesaidatlast—itwasthehighestpraiseinthe

Forsytevocabulary.“ThatyoungBosinneywillneverdoanygoodforhimself.TheysayatBurkitt’she’soneoftheseartisticchaps—gotanideaofimprovingEnglisharchitecture;there’snomoneyinthat!IshouldliketohearwhatTimothywouldsaytoit.”

Theyenteredthestation.

“Whatclassareyougoing?Igosecond.”

“Nosecondforme,”saidNicholas;—“youneverknowwhatyoumaycatch.”

Hetookafirst-classtickettoNottingHillGate;RogerasecondtoSouthKensington.Thetraincominginaminutelater,thetwobrotherspartedandenteredtheirrespective

compartments.Eachfeltaggrievedthattheotherhadnotmodifiedhishabitstosecurehissocietyalittlelonger;butasRogervoiceditinhisthoughts:

“Alwaysastubbornbeggar,Nick!”

AndasNicholasexpressedittohimself:

“Cantankerouschap

Roger—alwayswas!”Therewaslittle

sentimentalityabouttheForsytes.InthatgreatLondon,whichtheyhadconqueredandbecomemergedin,whattimehadtheytobesentimental?

CHAP T ERI I

OldJolyonGoestotheOpera

Atfiveo’clockthefollowingdayoldJolyonsatalone,acigarbetweenhislips,andonatablebyhissideacupoftea.Hewastired,andbeforehehadfinishedhiscigarhefellasleep.Aflysettledonhishair,hisbreathingsoundedheavyinthedrowsysilence,hisupperlipunderthewhitemoustachepuffed

inandout.Frombetweenthefingersofhisveinedandwrinkledhandthecigar,droppingontheemptyhearth,burneditselfout.

Thegloomylittlestudy,withwindowsofstainedglasstoexcludetheview,wasfullofdarkgreenvelvetandheavily-carvedmahogany—asuiteofwhicholdJolyonwas

wonttosay:“Shouldn’twonderifitmadeabigpricesomeday!”

Itwaspleasanttothinkthatintheafterlifehecouldgetmoreforthingsthanhehadgiven.

IntherichbrownatmospherepeculiartobackroomsinthemansionofaForsyte,theRembrandtesque

effectofhisgreathead,withitswhitehair,againstthecushionofhishigh-backedseat,wasspoiledbythemoustache,whichimpartedasomewhatmilitarylooktohisface.Anoldclockthathadbeenwithhimsincebeforehismarriagefortyyearsagokeptwithitstickingajealousrecordofthesecondsslipping

awayforeverfromitsoldmaster.

Hehadnevercaredforthisroom,hardlygoingintoitfromoneyear’sendtoanother,excepttotakecigarsfromtheJapanesecabinetinthecorner,andtheroomnowhaditsrevenge.

Histemples,curvinglikethatchesoverthehollows

beneath,hischeekbonesandchin,allweresharpenedinhissleep,andtherehadcomeuponhisfacetheconfessionthathewasanoldman.

Hewoke.Junehadgone!Jameshadsaidhewouldbelonely.Jameshadalwaysbeenapoorthing.Herecollectedwithsatisfactionthathehadboughtthathouse

overJames’shead.Servehimrightfor

stickingattheprice;theonlythingthefellowthoughtofwasmoney.Hadhegiventoomuch,though?Itwantedalotofdoingto—HedaredsayhewouldwantallhismoneybeforehehaddonewiththisaffairofJune’s.Heoughtnevertohaveallowedthe

engagement.ShehadmetthisBosinneyatthehouseofBaynes,BaynesandBildeboy,thearchitects.HebelievedthatBaynes,whomheknew—abitofanoldwoman—wastheyoungman’sunclebymarriage.Afterthatshe’dbeenalwaysrunningafterhim;andwhenshetookathingintoherhead

therewasnostoppingher.Shewascontinuallytakingupwithlameducksofonesortoranother.Thisfellowhadnomoney,butshemustneedsbecomeengagedtohim—aharum-scarum,unpracticalchap,whowouldgethimselfintonoendofdifficulties.

Shehadcometohimonedayinherslapdashwayand

toldhim;and,asifitwereanyconsolation,shehadadded:

“He’ssosplendid;he’softenlivedoncocoaforaweek!”

“Andhewantsyoutoliveoncocoatoo?”

“Ohno;heisgettingintotheswimnow.”

OldJolyonhadtakenhis

cigarfromunderhiswhitemoustaches,stainedbycoffeeattheedge,andlookedather,thatlittleslipofathingwhohadgotsuchagripofhisheart.Heknewmoreaboutswimsthanhisgranddaughter.Butshe,havingclaspedherhandsonhisknees,rubbedherchinagainsthim,makingasound

likeapurringcat.And,knockingtheashoffhiscigar,hehadexplodedinnervousdesperation:

“You’reallalike:youwon’tbesatisfiedtillyou’vegotwhatyouwant.Ifyoumustcometogrief,youmust;Iwashmyhandsofit.”

So,hehadwashedhishandsofit,makingthe

conditionthattheyshouldnotmarryuntilBosinneyhadatleastfourhundredayear.

“Ishan’tbeabletogiveyouverymuch,”hehadsaid,aformulatowhichJunewasnotunaccustomed.“Perhapsthiswhat’s-his-namewillprovidethecocoa.”

Hehadhardlyseenanythingofhersinceit

began.Abadbusiness!Hehadnonotionofgivingheralotofmoneytoenableafellowheknewnothingabouttoliveoninidleness.Hehadseenthatsortofthingbefore;nogoodevercameofit.Worstofall,hehadnohopeofshakingherresolution;shewasasobstinateasamule,alwayshadbeenfromachild.

Hedidn’tseewhereitwastoend.Theymustcuttheircoataccordingtotheircloth.HewouldnotgivewaytillhesawyoungBosinneywithanincomeofhisown.ThatJunewouldhavetroublewiththefellowwasasplainasapikestaff;hehadnomoreideaofmoneythanacow.AstothisrushingdowntoWales

tovisittheyoungman’saunts,hefullyexpectedtheywereoldcats.

And,motionless,oldJolyonstaredatthewall;butforhisopeneyes,hemighthavebeenasleep....TheideaofsupposingthatyoungcubSoamescouldgivehimadvice!Hehadalwaysbeenacub,withhisnoseintheair!

Hewouldbesettingupasamanofpropertynext,withaplaceinthecountry!Amanofproperty!H’mph!Likehisfather,hewasalwaysnosingoutbargains,acold-bloodedyoungbeggar!

Herose,and,goingtothecabinet,beganmethodicallystockinghiscigarcasefromabundlefreshin.Theywere

notbadattheprice,butyoucouldn’tgetagoodcigar,nowadays,nothingtoholdacandletothoseoldSuperfinosofHansonandBridger’s.Thatwasacigar!

Thethought,likesomestealingperfume,carriedhimbacktothosewonderfulnightsatRichmondwhenafterdinnerhesatsmoking

ontheterraceoftheCrownandSceptrewithNicholasTreffryandTraquairandJackHerringandAnthonyThornworthy.Howgoodhiscigarswerethen!PooroldNick!—dead,andJackHerring—dead,andTraquair—deadofthatwifeofhis,andThornworthy—awfullyshaky(nowonder,withhis

appetite).Ofallthecompanyof

thosedayshehimselfaloneseemedleft,exceptSwithin,ofcourse,andhesooutrageouslybigtherewasnodoinganythingwithhim.

Difficulttobelieveitwassolongago;hefeltyoungstill!Ofallhisthoughts,ashestoodtherecountinghis

cigars,thiswasthemostpoignant,themostbitter.Withhiswhiteheadandhislonelinesshehadremainedyoungandgreenatheart.AndthoseSundayafternoonsonHampsteadHeath,whenyoungJolyonandhewentforastretchalongtheSpaniard’sRoadtoHighgate,toChild’sHill,andbackovertheheath

againtodineatJackStraw’sCastle—howdelicioushiscigarswerethen!Andsuchweather!Therewasnoweathernow.

WhenJunewasatoddleroffive,andeveryotherSundayhetookhertothezoo,awayfromthesocietyofthosetwogoodwomen,hermotherandhergrandmother,

andatthetopofthebeardenbaitedhisumbrellawithbunsforherfavouritebears,howsweethiscigarswerethen!

Cigars!Hehadnotevensucceededinoutlivinghispalate—thefamouspalatethatinthefiftiesmensworeby,andspeakingofhim,said:“Forsyte’sthebestpalateinLondon!”Thepalatethatina

sensehadmadehisfortune—thefortuneofthecelebratedteamen,ForsyteandTreffry,whosetea,likenootherman’stea,hadaromanticaroma,thecharmofaquitesingulargenuineness.AboutthehouseofForsyteandTreffryinthecityhadclunganairofenterpriseandmystery,ofspecialdealings

inspecialships,atspecialports,withspecialOrientals.

Hehadworkedatthatbusiness!Mendidworkinthosedays!theseyoungpupshardlyknewthemeaningoftheword.Hehadgoneintoeverydetail,knowneverythingthatwenton,sometimessatupallnightoverit.Andhehadalways

chosenhisagentshimself,pridedhimselfonit.Hiseyeformen,heusedtosay,hadbeenthesecretofhissuccess,andtheexerciseofthismasterfulpowerofselectionhadbeentheonlypartofitallthathehadreallyliked.Notacareerforamanofhisability.Evennow,whenthebusinesshadbeenturnedintoalimited

liabilitycompany,andwasdeclining(hehadgotoutofhisshareslongago),hefeltasharpchagrininthinkingofthattime.Howmuchbetterhemighthavedone!Hewouldhavesucceededsplendidlyatthebar!HehadeventhoughtofstandingforParliament.HowoftenhadnotNicholasTreffrysaidto

him:“Youcoulddoanything,Jo,ifyouweren’tsod-damnedcarefulofyourself!”DearoldNick!Suchagoodfellow,butarackettychap!ThenotoriousTreffry!Hehadnevertakenanycareofhimself.Sohewasdead.OldJolyoncountedhiscigarswithasteadyhand,anditcameintohismindtowonder

ifperhapshehadbeentoocarefulofhimself.

Heputthecigarcaseinthebreastofhiscoat,buttoneditin,andwalkedupthelongflightstohisbedroom,leaningononefootandtheother,andhelpinghimselfbythebannister.Thehousewastoobig.AfterJunewasmarried,ifsheeverdid

marrythisfellow,ashesupposedshewould,hewouldletitandgointorooms.Whatwastheuseofkeepinghalfadozenservantseatingtheirheadsoff?

Thebutlercametotheringofhisbell—alargemanwithabeard,asofttread,andapeculiarcapacityforsilence.OldJolyontoldhim

toputhisdressclothesout;hewasgoingtodineattheclub.

HowlonghadthecarriagebeenbackfromtakingMissJunetothestation?Sincetwo?Thenlethimcomeroundathalfpastsix!

TheclubwhicholdJolyonenteredonthestroke

ofsevenwasoneofthosepoliticalinstitutionsoftheuppermiddleclasswhichhaveseenbetterdays.Inspiteofbeingtalkedabout,perhapsinconsequenceofbeingtalkedabout,itbetrayedadisappointingvitality.PeoplehadgrowntiredofsayingthattheDisunionwasonitslastlegs.OldJolyonwouldsayit,

too,yetdisregardedthefactinamannertrulyirritatingtowell-constitutedclubmen.

“Whydoyoukeepyournameon?”Swithinoftenaskedhimwithprofoundvexation.“Whydon’tyoujointhePolyglot?Youcan’tgetawinelikeourHeidsieckundertwentyshillin’abottleanywhereinLondon;”and,

droppinghisvoice,headded:“There’sonlyfivehundreddozenleft.Idrinkiteverynightofmylife.”

“I’llthinkofit,”oldJolyonwouldanswer;butwhenhedidthinkofittherewasalwaysthequestionoffiftyguineasentrancefee,anditwouldtakehimfourorfiveyearstogetin.Hecontinued

tothinkofit.Hewastoooldtobea

Liberal,hadlongceasedtobelieveinthepoliticaldoctrinesofhisclub,hadevenbeenknowntoalludetothemas“wretchedstuff,”anditaffordedhimpleasuretocontinueamemberintheteethofprinciplessoopposedtohisown.Hehadalways

hadacontemptfortheplace,havingjoineditmanyyearsagowhentheyrefusedtohavehimattheHotchPotchowingtohisbeing“intrade.”Asifhewerenotasgoodasanyofthem!Henaturallydespisedtheclubthatdidtakehim.Thememberswereapoorlot,manyoftheminthecity—stockbrokers,solicitors,

auctioneers—whatnot!Likemostmenofstrongcharacterbutnottoomuchoriginality,oldJolyonsetsmallstorebytheclasstowhichhebelonged.Faithfullyhefollowedtheircustoms,socialandotherwise,andsecretlyhethoughtthem“acommonlot.”

Yearsandphilosophy,of

whichhehadhisshare,haddimmedtherecollectionofhisdefeatattheHotchPotch;andnowinhisthoughtsitwasenshrinedasthequeenofclubs.Hewouldhavebeenamemberalltheseyearshimself,but,owingtotheslipshodwayhisproposer,JackHerring,hadgonetowork,theyhadnotknown

whattheyweredoinginkeepinghimout.Why!theyhadtakenhissonJoatonce,andhebelievedtheboywasstillamember;hehadreceivedaletterdatedfromthereeightyearsago.

HehadnotbeenneartheDisunionformonths,andthehousehadundergonethepiebalddecorationwhich

peoplebestowonoldhousesandoldshipswhenanxioustosellthem.

“Beastlycolour,thesmokingroom!”hethought.“Thediningroomisgood!”

Itsgloomychocolate,pickedoutwithlightgreen,tookhisfancy.

Heordereddinner,andsatdownintheverycorner,at

theverytableperhaps!(thingsdidnotprogressmuchattheDisunion,aclubofalmostradicalprinciples)atwhichheandyoungJolyonusedtosittwenty-fiveyearsago,whenhewastakingthelattertoDruryLane,duringhisholidays.

Theboyhadlovedthetheatre,andoldJolyon

recalledhowheusedtositopposite,concealinghisexcitementunderacarefulbuttransparentnonchalance.

Heorderedhimself,too,theverydinnertheboyhadalwayschosen-soup,whitebait,cutlets,andatart.Ah!ifhewereonlyoppositenow!

Thetwohadnotmetfor

fourteenyears.AndnotforthefirsttimeduringthosefourteenyearsoldJolyonwonderedwhetherhehadbeenalittletoblameinthematterofhisson.AnunfortunateloveaffairwiththatpreciousflirtDanaeThornworthy(nowDanaePellew),AnthonyThornworthy’sdaughter,had

thrownhimonthereboundintothearmsofJune’smother.Heoughtperhapstohaveputaspokeinthewheeloftheirmarriage;theyweretooyoung;butafterthatexperienceofJo’ssusceptibilityhehadbeenonlytooanxioustoseehimmarried.Andinfouryearsthecrashhadcome!Tohave

approvedhisson’sconductinthatcrashwas,ofcourse,impossible;reasonandtraining—thatcombinationofpotentfactorswhichstoodforhisprinciples—toldhimofthisimpossibility,andhisheartcriedout.Thegrimremorselessnessofthatbusinesshadnopityforhearts.TherewasJune,the

atomwithflaminghair,whohadclimbedalloverhim,twinedandtwistedherselfabouthim—abouthisheartthatwasmadetobetheplaythingandbelovedresortoftiny,helplessthings.Withcharacteristicinsighthesawhemustpartwithoneorwiththeother;nohalfmeasurescouldserveinsucha

situation.Inthatlayitstragedy.Andthetiny,helplessthingprevailed.Hewouldnotrunwiththehareandhuntwiththehounds,andsotohissonhesaidgoodbye.

Thatgoodbyehadlasteduntilnow.

HehadproposedtocontinueareducedallowancetoyoungJolyon,butthishad

beenrefused,andperhapsthatrefusalhadhurthimmorethananything,forwithithadgonethelastoutletofhispenned-inaffection;andtherehadcomesuchtangibleandsolidproofofruptureasonlyatransactioninproperty,abestowalorrefusalofsuch,couldsupply.

Hisdinnertastedflat.His

pintofchampagnewasdryandbitterstuff,notliketheVeuveClicquotsofolddays.

Overhiscupofcoffee,hebethoughthimthathewouldgototheopera.InTheTimes,therefore—hehadadistrustofotherpapers—hereadtheannouncementfortheevening.ItwasFidelio.

Mercifullynotoneof

thosenewfangledGermanpantomimesbythatfellowWagner.

Puttingonhisancientoperahat,which,withitsbrimflattenedbyuse,andhugecapacity,lookedlikeanemblemofgreaterdays,and,pullingoutanoldpairofverythinlavenderkidglovessmellingstronglyofRussia

leather,fromhabitualproximitytothecigarcaseinthepocketofhisovercoat,hesteppedintoahansom.

Thecabrattledgailyalongthestreets,andoldJolyonwasstruckbytheirunwontedanimation.

“Thehotelsmustbedoingatremendousbusiness,”hethought.Afewyearsago

therehadbeennoneofthesebighotels.Hemadeasatisfactoryreflectiononsomepropertyhehadintheneighbourhood.Itmustbegoingupinvaluebyleapsandbounds!Whattraffic!

Butfromthathebeganindulginginoneofthosestrangeimpersonalspeculations,so

uncharacteristicofaForsyte,whereinlay,inpart,thesecretofhissupremacyamongstthem.Whatatomsmenwere,andwhatalotofthem!Andwhatwouldbecomeofthemall?

Hestumbledashegotoutofthecab,gavethemanhisexactfare,walkeduptotheticketofficetotakehisstall,

andstoodtherewithhispurseinhishand—healwayscarriedhismoneyinapurse,neverhavingapprovedofthathabitofcarryingitlooselyinthepockets,assomanyyoungmendidnowadays.Theofficialleanedout,likeanolddogfromakennel.

“Why,”hesaidinasurprisedvoice,“it’sMr.

JolyonForsyte!Soitis!Haven’tseenyou,sir,foryears.Dearme!Timesaren’twhattheywere.Why!youandyourbrother,andthatauctioneer—Mr.Traquair,andMr.NicholasTreffry—youusedtohavesixorsevenstallshereregulareveryseason.Andhowareyou,sir?Wedon’tgetyounger!”

ThecolourinoldJolyon’seyesdeepened;hepaidhisguinea.Theyhadnotforgottenhim.Hemarchedin,tothesoundsoftheoverture,likeanoldwarhorsetobattle.

Foldinghisoperahat,hesatdown,drewouthislavenderglovesintheoldway,andtookuphisglasses

foralonglookroundthehouse.Droppingthematlastonhisfoldedhat,hefixedhiseyesonthecurtain.Morepoignantlythaneverhefeltthatitwasalloveranddonewithhim.Wherewereallthewomen,theprettywomen,thehouseusedtobesofullof?Wherewasthatoldfeelingintheheartashe

waitedforoneofthosegreatsingers?Wherethatsensationoftheintoxicationoflifeandofhisownpowertoenjoyitall?

Thegreatestoperagoerofhisday!Therewasnooperanow!ThatfellowWagnerhadruinedeverything;nomelodyleft,noranyvoicestosingit.Ah!thewonderfulsingers!

Gone!Hesatwatchingtheoldscenesacted,anumbfeelingathisheart.

Fromthecurlofsilveroverhiseartotheposeofhisfootinitselastic-sidedpatentboot,therewasnothingclumsyorweakaboutoldJolyon.Hewasasupright—verynearly—asinthoseoldtimeswhenhecameevery

night;hissightwasasgood—almostasgood.Butwhatafeelingofwearinessanddisillusion!

Hehadbeeninthehabitallhislifeofenjoyingthings,evenimperfectthings—andtherehadbeenmanyimperfectthings—hehadenjoyedthemallwithmoderation,soastokeep

himselfyoung.Butnowhewasdesertedbyhispowerofenjoyment,byhisphilosophy,andleftwiththisdreadfulfeelingthatitwasalldonewith.Noteventhe“Prisoners’Chorus,”nor“Florian’sSong,”hadthepowertodispelthegloomofhisloneliness.

IfJowereonlywithhim!

Theboymustbefortybynow.Hehadwastedfourteenyearsoutofthelifeofhisonlyson.AndJowasnolongerasocialpariah.Hewasmarried.OldJolyonhadbeenunabletorefrainfrommarkinghisappreciationoftheactionbyenclosinghissonachequefor£500.Thechequehadbeenreturnedina

letterfromtheHotchPotch,couchedinthesewords.

MYDEARESTFATHER,

Yourgenerousgiftwaswelcomeasasignthatyoumightthinkworseofme.Ireturnit,butshouldyou

thinkfittoinvestitforthebenefitofthelittlechap(wecallhimJolly),whobearsourChristianand,bycourtesy,oursurname,Ishallbeveryglad.

Ihopewithallmyheartthatyourhealthisasgoodas

ever.Yourloving

son,Jo

Theletterwasliketheboy.Hehadalwaysbeenanamiablechap.OldJolyonhadsentthisreply:

MYDEARJO,

Thesum(£500)standsinmybooksforthebenefitofyourboy,underthenameofJolyonForsyte,andwillbedulycreditedwithinterestatfivepercent.Ihopethatyouaredoingwell.Myhealthremains

goodatpresent.Withlove,Iam,Your

affectionatefather,JOLYON

FORSYTE

AndeveryyearonthefirstofJanuaryhehadaddedahundredandtheinterest.Thesumwasmountingup—

nextNewYear’sDayitwouldbefifteenhundredandoddpounds!Anditisdifficulttosayhowmuchsatisfactionhehadgotoutofthatyearlytransaction.Butthecorrespondencehadended.

Inspiteofhisloveforhisson,inspiteofaninstinct,partlyconstitutional,partly

theresult,asinthousandsofhisclass,ofthecontinualhandlingandwatchingofaffairs,promptinghimtojudgeconductbyresultsratherthanbyprinciple,therewasatthebottomofhisheartasortofuneasiness.Hissonought,underthecircumstances,tohavegonetothedogs;thatlawwaslaid

downinallthenovels,sermons,andplayshehadeverread,heard,orwitnessed.

Afterreceivingthechequebackthereseemedtohimtobesomethingwrongsomewhere.Whyhadhissonnotgonetothedogs?But,then,whocouldtell?

Hehadheard,ofcourse—

infact,hehadmadeithisbusinesstofindout—thatJolivedinSt.John’sWood,thathehadalittlehouseinWistariaAvenuewithagarden,andtookhiswifeaboutwithhimintosociety—aqueersortofsociety,nodoubt—andthattheyhadtwochildren—thelittlechaptheycalledJolly(consideringthe

circumstancesthenamestruckhimascynical,andoldJolyonbothfearedanddislikedcynicism),andagirlcalledHolly,bornsincethemarriage.Whocouldtellwhathisson’scircumstancesreallywere?Hehadcapitalizedtheincomehehadinheritedfromhismother’sfatherandjoinedLloyd’sas

anunderwriter;hepaintedpictures,too—watercolours.OldJolyonknewthis,forhehadsurreptitiouslyboughtthemfromtimetotime,afterchancingtoseehisson’snamesignedatthebottomofarepresentationoftheriverThamesinadealer’swindow.Hethoughtthembad,anddidnothangthembecauseofthe

signature;hekeptthemlockedupinadrawer.

Inthegreatoperahouseaterribleyearningcameonhimtoseehisson.Herememberedthedayswhenhehadbeenwonttoslidehim,inabrownhollandsuit,toandfrounderthearchofhislegs;thetimeswhenheranbesidetheboy’spony,

teachinghimtoride;thedayhefirsttookhimtoschool.Hehadbeenaloving,lovablelittlechap!AfterhewenttoEtonhehadacquired,perhaps,alittletoomuchofthatdesirablemannerwhicholdJolyonknewwasonlytobeobtainedatsuchplacesandatgreatexpense;buthehadalwaysbeen

companionable.Alwaysacompanion,evenafterCambridge—alittlefaroff,perhaps,owingtotheadvantageshehadreceived.OldJolyon’sfeelingtowardsourpublicschoolsand’Varsitiesneverwavered,andheretainedtouchinglyhisattitudeofadmirationandmistrusttowardsasystem

appropriatetothehighestintheland,ofwhichhehadnothimselfbeenprivilegedtopartake....NowthatJunehadgoneandleft,orasgoodaslefthim,itwouldhavebeenacomforttoseehissonagain.Guiltyofthistreasontohisfamily,hisprinciples,hisclass,oldJolyonfixedhiseyesonthesinger.Apoor

thing—awretchedpoorthing!AndtheFlorianaperfectstick!

Itwasover.Theywereeasilypleasednowadays!

Inthecrowdedstreethesnappedupacabundertheverynoseofastoutandmuchyoungergentleman,whohadalreadyassumedittobehisown.Hisroutelaythrough

PallMall,andatthecorner,insteadofgoingthroughtheGreenPark,thecabmanturnedtodriveupSt.James’sStreet.OldJolyonputhishandthroughthetrap(hecouldnotbearbeingtakenoutofhisway);inturning,however,hefoundhimselfoppositetheHotchPotch,andtheyearningthathadbeen

secretlywithhimthewholeeveningprevailed.Hecalledtothedrivertostop.HewouldgoinandaskifJostillbelongedthere.

Hewentin.ThehalllookedexactlyasitdidwhenheusedtodinetherewithJackHerring,andtheyhadthebestcookinLondon;andhelookedroundwiththe

shrewd,straightglancethathadcausedhimallhislifetobebetterservedthanmostmen.

“Mr.JolyonForsytestillamemberhere?”

“Yes,sir;intheclubnow,sir.Whatname?”

OldJolyonwastakenaback.

“Hisfather,”hesaid.

Andhavingspoken,hetookhisstand,backtothefireplace.

YoungJolyon,onthepointofleavingtheclub,hadputonhishat,andwasintheactofcrossingthehall,astheportermethim.Hewasnolongeryoung,withhairgoinggrey,andface—anarrowerreplicaofhisfather’s,with

thesamelargedroopingmoustache—decidedlyworn.Heturnedpale.Thismeetingwasterribleafterallthoseyears,fornothingintheworldwassoterribleasascene.Theymetandcrossedhandswithoutaword.Then,withaquaverinhisvoice,thefathersaid:

“Howareyou,myboy?”

Thesonanswered:“Howareyou,Dad?”OldJolyon’shand

trembledinitsthinlavenderglove.

“Ifyou’regoingmyway,”hesaid,“Icangiveyoualift.”

Andasthoughinthehabitoftakingeachotherhomeeverynighttheywentoutand

steppedintothecab.TooldJolyonitseemed

thathissonhadgrown.“Moreofamanaltogether,”washiscomment.Overthenaturalamiabilityofthatson’sfacehadcomearathersardonicmask,asthoughhehadfoundinthecircumstancesofhislifethenecessityforarmour.The

featureswerecertainlythoseofaForsyte,buttheexpressionwasmoretheintrospectivelookofastudentorphilosopher.Hehadnodoubtbeenobligedtolookintohimselfagooddealinthecourseofthosefifteenyears.

ToyoungJolyonthefirstsightofhisfatherwas

undoubtedlyashock—helookedsowornandold.Butinthecabheseemedhardlytohavechanged,stillhavingthecalmlooksowellremembered,stillbeinguprightandkeen-eyed.

“Youlookwell,Dad.”“Middling,”oldJolyon

answered.Hewasthepreyofan

anxietythathefoundhemustputintowords.Havinggothissonbacklikethis,hefelthemustknowwhatwashisfinancialposition.

“Jo,”hesaid,“Ishouldliketohearwhatsortofwateryou’rein.Isupposeyou’reindebt?”

Heputitthiswaythathissonmightfinditeasierto

confess.YoungJolyonanswered

inhisironicalvoice:“No!I’mnotindebt!”OldJolyonsawthathe

wasangry,andtouchedhishand.Hehadrunarisk.Itwasworthit,however,andJohadneverbeensulkywithhim.Theydroveon,withoutspeakingagain,toStanhope

Gate.OldJolyoninvitedhimin,butyoungJolyonshookhishead.

“June’snothere,”saidhisfatherhastily:“wentofftodayonavisit.Isupposeyouknowthatshe’sengagedtobemarried?”

“Already?”murmuredyoungJolyon.

OldJolyonsteppedout,

and,inpayingthecabfare,forthefirsttimeinhislifegavethedriverasovereigninmistakeforashilling.

Placingthecoininhismouth,thecabmanwhippedhishorsesecretlyontheunderneathandhurriedaway.

OldJolyonturnedthekeysoftlyinthelock,pushedopenthedoor,andbeckoned.

Hissonsawhimgravelyhanginguphiscoat,withanexpressiononhisfacelikethatofaboywhointendstostealcherries.

Thedoorofthediningroomwasopen,thegasturnedlow;aspirit-urnhissedonateatray,andclosetoitacynicallookingcathadfallenasleeponthediningtable.

OldJolyonshoo’dheroffatonce.Theincidentwasarelieftohisfeelings;herattledhisoperahatbehindtheanimal.

“She’sgotfleas,”hesaid,followingheroutoftheroom.Throughthedoorinthehallleadingtothebasementhecalled“Hssst!”severaltimes,asthough

assistingthecat’sdeparture,tillbysomestrangecoincidencethebutlerappearedbelow.

“Youcangotobed,Parfitt,”saidoldJolyon.“Iwilllockupandputout.”

Whenheagainenteredthediningroomthecatunfortunatelyprecededhim,withhertailintheair,

proclaimingthatshehadseenthroughthismanouevreforsuppressingthebutlerfromthefirst....

AfatalityhaddoggedoldJolyon’sdomesticstratagemsallhislife.

YoungJolyoncouldnothelpsmiling.Hewasverywellversedinirony,andeverythingthatevening

seemedtohimironical.Theepisodeofthecat;theannouncementofhisowndaughter’sengagement.SohehadnomorepartorparcelinherthanhehadinthePuss!Andthepoeticaljusticeofthisappealedtohim.

“WhatisJunelikenow?”heasked.

“She’salittlething,”

returnedoldJolyon;“theysayshe’slikeme,butthat’stheirfolly.She’smorelikeyourmother—thesameeyesandhair.”

“Ah!andsheispretty?”OldJolyonwastoomuch

ofaForsytetopraiseanythingfreely;especiallyanythingforwhichhehadagenuineadmiration.

“Notbadlooking—aregularForsytechin.It’llbelonelyherewhenshe’sgone,Jo.”

ThelookonhisfaceagaingaveyoungJolyontheshockhehadfeltonfirstseeinghisfather.

“Whatwillyoudowithyourself,Dad?Isupposeshe’swrappedupinhim?”

“Dowithmyself?”repeatedoldJolyonwithanangrybreakinhisvoice.“It’llbemiserableworklivingherealone.Idon’tknowhowit’stoend.Iwishtogoodness....”Hecheckedhimself,andadded:“Thequestionis,whathadIbetterdowiththishouse?”

YoungJolyonlooked

roundtheroom.Itwaspeculiarlyvastanddreary,decoratedwiththeenormouspicturesofstilllifethatherememberedasaboy—sleepingdogswiththeirnosesrestingonbunchesofcarrots,togetherwithonionsandgrapeslyingsidebysideinmildsurprise.Thehousewasawhiteelephant,buthecould

notconceiveofhisfatherlivinginasmallerplace;andallthemorediditallseemironical.

Inhisgreatchairwiththebook-restsatoldJolyon,thefigureheadofhisfamilyandclassandcreed,withhiswhiteheadanddome-likeforehead,therepresentativeofmoderation,andorder,and

loveofproperty.AslonelyanoldmanastherewasinLondon.

Therehesatinthegloomycomfortoftheroom,apuppetinthepowerofgreatforcesthatcarednothingforfamilyorclassorcreed,butmoved,machine-like,withdreadprocessestoinscrutableends.Thiswashowitstruck

youngJolyon,whohadtheimpersonaleye.

Thepoorolddad!Sothiswastheend,thepurposetowhichhehadlivedwithsuchmagnificentmoderation!Tobelonely,andgrowolderandolder,yearningforasoultospeakto!

InhisturnoldJolyonlookedbackathisson.He

wantedtotalkaboutmanythingsthathehadbeenunabletotalkaboutalltheseyears.IthadbeenimpossibletoseriouslyconfideinJunehisconvictionthatpropertyintheSohoquarterwouldgoupinvalue;hisuneasinessaboutthattremendoussilenceofPippin,thesuperintendentoftheNewCollieryCompany,

ofwhichhehadsolongbeenchairman;hisdisgustatthesteadyfallinAmericanGolgothas,oreventodiscusshow,bysomesortofsettlement,hecouldbestavoidthepaymentofthosedeathdutieswhichwouldfollowhisdecease.Undertheinfluence,however,ofacupoftea,whichheseemedto

stirindefinitely,hebegantospeakatlast.Anewvistaoflifewasthusopenedup,apromisedlandoftalk,wherehecouldfindaharbouragainstthewavesofanticipationandregret;wherehecouldsoothehissoulwiththeopiumofdevisinghowtoroundoffhispropertyandmakeeternaltheonlypartof

himthatwastoremainalive.YoungJolyonwasagood

listener;itwashisgreatquality.Hekepthiseyesfixedonhisfather’sface,puttingaquestionnowandthen.

TheclockstruckonebeforeoldJolyonhadfinished,andatthesoundofitsstrikinghisprinciples

cameback.Hetookouthiswatchwithalookofsurprise:

“Imustgotobed,Jo,”hesaid.

YoungJolyonroseandheldouthishandtohelphisfatherup.Theoldfacelookedwornandhollowagain;theeyesweresteadilyaverted.

“Goodbye,myboy;takecareofyourself.”

Amomentpassed,andyoungJolyon,turningonhis,heel,marchedoutatthedoor.Hecouldhardlysee;hissmilequavered.Neverinallthefifteenyearssincehehadfirstfoundoutthatlifewasnosimplebusiness,hadhefounditsosingularlycomplicated.

CHAP T ERI I I

DinneratSwithin’s

InSwithin’sorangeandlight-

bluediningroom,facingthepark,theroundtablewaslaidfortwelve.

Acut-glasschandelierfilledwithlightedcandleshunglikeagiantstalactiteaboveitscentre,radiatingoverlargegilt-framedmirrors,slabsofmarbleonthetopsofsidetables,andheavygoldchairswithcrewel

workedseats.Everythingbetokenedthatloveofbeautysodeeplyimplantedineachfamilywhichhashaditsownwaytomakeintosociety,outofthemorevulgarheartofnature.Swithinhadindeedanimpatienceofsimplicity,aloveoformolu,whichhadalwaysstampedhimamongsthisassociatesasamanof

great,ifsomewhatluxurioustaste;andoutoftheknowledgethatnoonecouldpossiblyenterhisroomswithoutperceivinghimtobeamanofwealth,hehadderivedasolidandprolongedhappinesssuchasperhapsnoothercircumstanceinlifehadaffordedhim.

Sincehisretirementfrom

landagency,aprofessiondeplorableinhisestimation,especiallyastoitsauctioneeringdepartment,hehadabandonedhimselftonaturallyaristocratictastes.

Theperfectluxuryofhislatterdayshadembeddedhimlikeaflyinsugar;andhismind,whereverylittletookplacefrommorningtillnight,

wasthejunctionoftwocuriouslyoppositeemotions,alingeringandsturdysatisfactionthathehadmadehisownwayandhisownfortune,andasensethatamanofhisdistinctionshouldneverhavebeenallowedtosoilhismindwithwork.

Hestoodatthesideboardinawhitewaistcoatwith

largegoldandonyxbuttons,watchinghisvaletscrewthenecksofthreechampagnebottlesdeeperintoicepails.Betweenthepointsofhisstand-upcollar,which—thoughithurthimtomove—hewouldonnoaccounthavehadaltered,thepalefleshofhisunderchinremainedimmovable.Hiseyesroved

frombottletobottle.Hewasdebating,andhearguedlikethis:Jolyondrinksaglass,perhapstwo,he’ssocarefulofhimself.James,hecan’ttakehiswinenowadays.Nicholas—Fannyandhewouldswillwaterheshouldn’twonder!Soamesdidn’tcount;theseyoungnephews—Soameswas

thirty-one—couldn’tdrink!ButBosinney?

Encounteringinthenameofthisstrangersomethingoutsidetherangeofhisphilosophy,Swithinpaused.Amisgivingarosewithinhim!Itwasimpossibletotell!Junewasonlyagirl,inlovetoo!Emily(Mrs.James)likedagoodglassofchampagne.It

wastoodryforJuley,pooroldsoul,shehadnopalate.AstoHattyChessman!Thethoughtofthisoldfriendcausedacloudofthoughttoobscuretheperfectglassinessofhiseyes:Heshouldn’twonderifshedrankhalfabottle!

Butinthinkingofhisremainingguest,an

expressionlikethatofacatwhoisjustgoingtopurrstoleoverhisoldface:Mrs.Soames!Shemightn’ttakemuch,butshewouldappreciatewhatshedrank;itwasapleasuretogivehergoodwine!Aprettywoman—andsympathetictohim!

Thethoughtofherwaslikechampagneitself!A

pleasuretogiveagoodwinetoayoungwomanwholookedsowell,whoknewhowtodress,withcharmingmanners,quitedistinguished—apleasuretoentertainher.Betweenthepointsofhiscollarhegavehisheadthefirstsmall,painfuloscillationoftheevening.

“Adolf!”hesaid.“Putin

anotherbottle.”Hehimselfmightdrinka

gooddeal,for,thankstothatprescriptionofBlight’s,hefoundhimselfextremelywell,andhehadbeencarefultotakenolunch.Hehadnotfeltsowellforweeks.Puffingouthislowerlip,hegavehislastinstructions:

“Adolf,theleasttouchof

theWestIndiawhenyoucometotheham.”

Passingintotheanteroom,hesatdownontheedgeofachair,withhiskneesapart;andhistall,bulkyformwaswrappedatonceinanexpectant,strange,primevalimmobility.Hewasreadytoriseatamoment’snotice.Hehadnotgivena

dinnerpartyformonths.ThisdinnerinhonourofJune’sengagementhadseemedaboreatfirst(amongForsytesthecustomofsolemnizingengagementsbyfeastswasreligiouslyobserved),butthelaboursofsendinginvitationsandorderingtherepastover,hefeltpleasantlystimulated.

Andthussitting,awatch

inhishand,fat,andsmooth,andgolden,likeaflattenedglobeofbutter,hethoughtofnothing.

Alongman,withsidewhiskers,whohadoncebeeninSwithin’sservice,butwasnowagreengrocer,enteredandproclaimed:

“Mrs.Chessman,Mrs.SeptimusSmall!”

Twoladiesadvanced.Theoneinfront,habitedentirelyinred,hadlarge,settledpatchesofthesamecolourinhercheeks,andahard,dashingeye.ShewalkedatSwithin,holdingoutahandcasedinalong,primrose-colouredglove:

“Well!Swithin,”shesaid,“Ihaven’tseenyouforages.

Howareyou?Why,mydearboy,howstoutyou’regetting!”

ThefixityofSwithin’seyealonebetrayedemotion.Adumbandgrumblingangerswelledhisbosom.Itwasvulgartobestout,totalkofbeingstout;hehadachest,nothingmore.Turningtohissister,hegraspedherhand,

andsaidinatoneofcommand:

“Well,Juley.”Mrs.SeptimusSmallwas

thetallestofthefoursisters;hergood,roundoldfacehadgonealittlesour;aninnumerablepoutclungalloverit,asifithadbeenencasedinanironwiremaskuptothatevening,which,

beingsuddenlyremoved,leftlittlerollsofmutinousfleshalloverhercountenance.Evenhereyeswerepouting.ItwasthusthatsherecordedherpermanentresentmentatthelossofSeptimusSmall.

Shehadquiteareputationforsayingthewrongthing,and,tenaciouslikeallherbreed,shewouldholdtoit

whenshehadsaidit,andaddtoitanotherwrongthing,andsoon.Withthedeceaseofherhusbandthefamilytenacity,thefamilymatter-of-factness,hadgonesterilewithinher.Agreattalker,whenallowed,shewouldconversewithoutthefaintestanimationforhourstogether,relating,withepicmonotony,the

innumerableoccasionsonwhichFortunehadmisusedher;nordidsheeverperceivethatherhearerssympathizedwithFortune,forherheartwaskind.

Havingsat,poorsoul,longbythebedsideofSmall(amanofpoorconstitution),shehadacquired,thehabit,andtherewerecountless

subsequentoccasionswhenshehadsatimmenseperiodsoftimetoamusesickpeople,children,andotherhelplesspersons,andshecouldneverdivestherselfofthefeelingthattheworldwasthemostungratefulplaceanybodycouldlivein.SundayafterSundayshesatatthefeetofthatextremelywittypreacher,

theRev.ThomasScoles,whoexercisedagreatinfluenceoverher;butshesucceededinconvincingeverybodythateventhiswasamisfortune.Shehadpassedintoaproverbinthefamily,andwhenanybodywasobservedtobepeculiarlydistressing,hewasknownasaregular“Juley.”Thehabitofhermindwould

havekilledanybodybutaForsyteatforty;butshewasseventy-two,andhadneverlookedbetter.Andonefeltthattherewerecapacitiesforenjoymentaboutherwhichmightyetcomeout.Sheownedthreecanaries,thecatTommy,andhalfaparrot—incommonwithhersisterHester;—andthesepoor

creatures(keptcarefullyoutofTimothy’sway—hewasnervousaboutanimals),unlikehumanbeings,recognisingthatshecouldnothelpbeingblighted,attachedthemselvestoherpassionately.

Shewassomberlymagnificentthiseveninginblackbombazine,witha

mauvefrontcutinashytriangle,andcrownedwithablackvelvetribbonroundthebaseofherthinthroat;blackandmauveforeveningwearwasesteemedverychastebynearlyeveryForsyte.

PoutingatSwithin,shesaid:

“Annhasbeenaskingforyou.Youhaven’tbeennear

usforanage!”Swithinputhisthumbs

withinthearmholesofhiswaistcoat,andreplied:

“Ann’sgettingveryshaky;sheoughttohaveadoctor!”

“Mr.andMrs.NicholasForsyte!”

NicholasForsyte,cockinghisrectangulareyebrows,

woreasmile.HehadsucceededduringthedayinbringingtofruitionaschemefortheemploymentofatribefromUpperIndiainthegoldminesofCeylon.Apetplan,carriedatlastintheteethofgreatdifficulties—hewasjustlypleased.Itwoulddoubletheoutputofhismines,and,ashehadoften

forciblyargued,allexperiencetendedtoshowthatamanmustdie;andwhetherhediedofamiserableoldageinhisowncountry,orprematurelyofdampinthebottomofaforeignmine,wassurelyoflittleconsequence,providedthatbyachangeinhismodeoflifehebenefitedtheBritish

Empire.Hisabilitywas

undoubted.Raisinghisbrokennosetowardshislistener,hewouldadd:

“Forwantofafewhundredofthesefellowswehaven’tpaidadividendforyears,andlookatthepriceoftheshares.Ican’tgettenshillingsforthem.”

HehadbeenatYarmouth,too,andhadcomebackfeelingthathehadaddedatleasttenyearstohisownlife.HegraspedSwithin’shand,exclaiminginajocularvoice:

“Well,sohereweareagain!”

Mrs.Nicholas,aneffetewoman,smiledasmileoffrightenedjollitybehindhis

back.“Mr.andMrs.James

Forsyte!Mr.andMrs.SoamesForsyte!”

Swithindrewhisheelstogether,hisdeportmenteveradmirable.

“Well,James,wellEmily!Howareyou,Soames?Howdoyoudo?”

Hishandenclosed

Irene’s,andhiseyesswelled.Shewasaprettywoman—alittletoopale,butherfigure,hereyes,herteeth!ToogoodforthatchapSoames!

ThegodshadgivenIrenedarkbrowneyesandgoldenhair,thatstrangecombination,provocativeofmen’sglances,whichissaidtobethemarkofaweak

character.Andthefull,softpallorofherneckandshoulders,aboveagold-colouredfrock,gavetoherpersonalityanalluringstrangeness.

Soamesstoodbehind,hiseyesfastenedonhiswife’sneck.ThehandsofSwithin’swatch,whichhestillheldopeninhishand,hadleft

eightbehind;itwashalfanhourbeyondhisdinnertime—hehadhadnolunch—andastrangeprimevalimpatiencesurgedupwithinhim.

“It’snotlikeJolyontobelate!”hesaidtoIrene,withuncontrollablevexation.“Isupposeit’llbeJunekeepinghim!”

“Peopleinloveare

alwayslate,”sheanswered.Swithinstaredather;a

duskyorangedyedhischeeks.

“They’venobusinesstobe.Somefashionablenonsense!”

Andbehindthisoutbursttheinarticulateviolenceofprimitivegenerationsseemedtomutterandgrumble.

“Tellmewhatyouthinkofmynewstar,UncleSwithin,”saidIrenesoftly.

Amongthelaceinthebosomofherdresswasshiningafive-pointedstar,madeofelevendiamonds.Swithinlookedatthestar.Hehadaprettytasteinstones;noquestioncouldhavebeenmoresympatheticallydevised

todistracthisattention.“Whogaveyouthat?”he

asked.“Soames.”Therewasnochangein

herface,butSwithin’spaleeyesbulgedasthoughhemightsuddenlyhavebeenafflictedwithinsight.

“Idaresayyou’redullathome,”hesaid.“Anydayyou

liketocomeanddinewithme,I’llgiveyouasgoodabottleofwineasyou’llgetinLondon.”

“MissJuneForsyte—Mr.JolyonForsyte!...Mr.Bo-swainey!...”

Swithinmovedhisarm,andsaidinarumblingvoice:

“Dinner,now—dinner!”HetookinIrene,onthe

groundthathehadnotentertainedhersinceshewasabride.JunewastheportionofBosinney,whowasplacedbetweenIreneandhisfiancée.OntheothersideofJunewasJameswithMrs.Nicholas,thenoldJolyonwithMrs.James,NicholaswithHattyChessman,SoameswithMrs.Small,

completing,thecircletoSwithinagain.

FamilydinnersoftheForsytesobservecertaintraditions.Thereare,forinstance,nohorsd’oeuvres.Thereasonforthisisunknown.Theoryamongtheyoungermemberstracesittothedisgracefulpriceofoysters;itismoreprobably

duetoadesiretocometothepoint,toagoodpracticalsensedecidingatoncethathorsd’oeuvresarebutpoorthings.TheJamesesalone,unabletowithstandacustomalmostuniversalinParkLane,arenowandthenunfaithful.

Asilent,almostmorose,inattentiontoeachother

succeedstothesubsidenceintotheirseats,lastingtillwellintothefirstentree,butinterspersedwithremarkssuchas,“Tom’sbadagain;Ican’ttellwhat’sthematterwithhim!”“IsupposeAnndoesn’tcomedowninthemornings?”—“What’sthenameofyourdoctor,Fanny?”“Stubbs?”“He’sa

quack!”—“Winifred?She’sgottoomanychildren.Four,isn’tit?She’sasthinasalath!”—“Whatd’yougiveforthissherry,Swithin?Toodryforme!”

Withthesecondglassofchampagne,akindofhummakesitselfheard,which,whendivestedofcasualaccessoriesandresolvedinto

itsprimalelement,isfoundtobeJamestellingastory,andthisgoesonforalongtime,encroachingsometimesevenuponwhatmustuniversallyberecognisedasthecrowningpointofaForsytefeast—“thesaddleofmutton.”

NoForsytehasgivenadinnerwithoutprovidinga

saddleofmutton.Thereissomethinginitssucculentsoliditywhichmakesitsuitabletopeople“ofacertainposition.”Itisnourishingandtasty;thesortofthingamanrememberseating.Ithasapastandafuture,likeadepositpaidintoabank;anditissomethingthatcanbearguedabout.

Eachbranchofthefamilytenaciouslyheldtoaparticularlocality—oldJolyonswearingbyDartmoor,JamesbyWelsh,SwithinbySouthdown,Nicholasmaintainingthatpeoplemightsneer,buttherewasnothinglikeNewZealand!AsforRoger,the“original”ofthebrothers,he

hadbeenobligedtoinventalocalityofhisown,andwithaningenuityworthyofamanwhohaddevisedanewprofessionforhissons,hehaddiscoveredashopwheretheysoldGerman;onbeingremonstratedwith,hehadprovedhispointbyproducingabutcher’sbill,whichshowedthathepaidmore

thananyoftheothers.ItwasonthisoccasionthatoldJolyon,turningtoJune,hadsaidinoneofhisburstsofphilosophy:

“Youmaydependuponit,they’reacrankylot,theForsytes—andyou’llfinditout,asyougrowolder!”

Timothyaloneheldapart,forthoughheatesaddleof

muttonheartily,hewas,hesaid,afraidofit.

ToanyoneinterestedpsychologicallyinForsytes,thisgreatsaddle-of-muttontraitisofprimeimportance;notonlydoesitillustratetheirtenacity,bothcollectivelyandasindividuals,butitmarksthemasbelonginginfibreandinstinctstothatgreat

classwhichbelievesinnourishmentandflavour,andyieldstonosentimentalcravingforbeauty.

Youngermembersofthefamilyindeedwouldhavedonewithoutajointaltogether,preferringguineafowl,orlobstersalad—somethingwhichappealedtotheimagination,andhadless

nourishment—butthesewerefemales;or,ifnot,hadbeencorruptedbytheirwives,orbymothers,whohavingbeenforcedtoeatsaddleofmuttonthroughouttheirmarriedlives,hadpassedasecrethostilitytowardsitintothefibreoftheirsons.

Thegreatsaddle-of-muttoncontroversyatanend,

aTewkesburyhamcommenced,togetherwiththeleasttouchofWestIndian—Swithinwassolongoverthiscoursethathecausedablockintheprogressofthedinner.Todevotehimselftoitwithbetterheart,hepausedinhisconversation.

FromhisseatbyMrs.SeptimusSmall,Soameswas

watching.Hehadareasonofhisownconnectedwithapetbuildingscheme,forobservingBosinney.Thearchitectmightdoforhispurpose;helookedclever,ashesatleaningbackinhischair,moodilymakinglittlerampartswithbreadcrumbs.Soamesnotedhisdressclothestobewellcut,buttoo

small,asthoughmademanyyearsago.

HesawhimturntoIreneandsaysomethingandherfacesparkleasheoftensawitsparkleatotherpeople—neverathimself.Hetriedtocatchwhattheyweresaying,butAuntJuleywasspeaking.

Hadn’tthatalwaysseemedveryextraordinaryto

Soames?OnlylastSundaydearMr.Scole,hadbeensowittyinhissermon,sosarcastic,“Forwhat,”hehadsaid,“shallitprofitamanifhegainhisownsoul,butloseallhisproperty?”That,hehadsaid,wasthemottoofthemiddle-class;now,whathadhemeantb