The Forsyte Saga - Volume 1

Young Jolyon was a good listener; it was his great quality. He kept his

eyes fixed on his father's face, putting a question now and then.

The clock struck one before old Jolyon had finished, and at the sound of

its striking his principles came back. He took out his watch with a look

of surprise:

"I must go to bed, Jo," he said.

Young Jolyon rose and held out his hand to help his father up. The old

face looked worn and hollow again; the eyes were steadily averted.

"Good-bye, my boy; take care of yourself."

A moment passed, and young Jolyon, turning on his, heel, marched out

at the door. He could hardly see; his smile quavered. Never in all

the fifteen years since he had first found out that life was no simple

business, had he found it so singularly complicated.