The Forsyte Saga - Volume 1

"Yes," said old Jolyon, "Soames's wife!"

Young Jolyon did not whistle: The circumstances of his own life had

rendered him incapable of whistling on such a subject, but he looked at

his father, while the ghost of a smile hovered over his face.

If old Jolyon saw, he took no notice.

"She and June were bosom friends!" he muttered.

"Poor little June!" said young Jolyon softly. He thought of his daughter

still as a babe of three.

Old Jolyon came to a sudden halt.

"I don't believe a word of it," he said, "it's some old woman's tale.

Get me a cab, Jo, I'm tired to death!"

They stood at a corner to see if an empty cab would come along, while

carriage after carriage drove past, bearing Forsytes of all descriptions

from the Zoo. The harness, the liveries, the gloss on the horses' coats,

shone and glittered in the May sunlight, and each equipage, landau,

sociable, barouche, Victoria, or brougham, seemed to roll out proudly

from its wheels:

'I and my horses and my men you know,' Indeed the whole turn-out have

cost a pot. But we were worth it every penny. Look At Master and at

Missis now, the dawgs! Ease with security--ah! that's the ticket!

And such, as everyone knows, is fit accompaniment for a perambulating

Forsyte.

Amongst these carriages was a barouche coming at a greater pace than

the others, drawn by a pair of bright bay horses. It swung on its high

springs, and the four people who filled it seemed rocked as in a cradle.

This chariot attracted young Jolyon's attention; and suddenly, on the

back seat, he recognised his Uncle James, unmistakable in spite of the

increased whiteness of his whiskers; opposite, their backs defended by

sunshades, Rachel Forsyte and her elder but married sister, Winifred

Dartie, in irreproachable toilettes, had posed their heads haughtily,

like two of the birds they had been seeing at the Zoo; while by James'

side reclined Dartie, in a brand-new frock-coat buttoned tight and

square, with a large expanse of carefully shot linen protruding below

each wristband.

An extra, if subdued, sparkle, an added touch of the best gloss or

varnish characterized this vehicle, and seemed to distinguish it from

all the others, as though by some happy extravagance--like that which

marks out the real 'work of art' from the ordinary 'picture'--it were

designated as the typical car, the very throne of Forsytedom.

Old Jolyon did not see them pass; he was petting poor Holly who was

tired, but those in the carriage had taken in the little group; the

ladies' heads tilted suddenly, there was a spasmodic screening movement

of parasols; James' face protruded naively, like the head of a long

bird, his mouth slowly opening. The shield-like rounds of the parasols

grew smaller and smaller, and vanished.