The Forsyte Saga - Volume 1

Then severally, each stood aside, and putting on his hat, turned back to

inspect the new inscription on the marble of the family vault:

SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF ANN FORSYTE,

THE DAUGHTER OF THE ABOVE JOLYON AND ANN FORSYTE,

WHO DEPARTED THIS LIFE THE 27TH DAY OF SEPTEMBER, 1886,

AGED EIGHTY-SEVEN YEARS AND FOUR DAYS

Soon perhaps, someone else would be wanting an inscription. It was

strange and intolerable, for they had not thought somehow, that Forsytes

could die. And one and all they had a longing to get away from this

painfulness, this ceremony which had reminded them of things they could

not bear to think about--to get away quickly and go about their business

and forget.

It was cold, too; the wind, like some slow, disintegrating force,

blowing up the hill over the graves, struck them with its chilly breath;

they began to split into groups, and as quickly as possible to fill the

waiting carriages.

Swithin said he should go back to lunch at Timothy's, and he offered

to take anybody with him in his brougham. It was considered a doubtful

privilege to drive with Swithin in his brougham, which was not a large

one; nobody accepted, and he went off alone. James and Roger followed

immediately after; they also would drop in to lunch. The others

gradually melted away, Old Jolyon taking three nephews to fill up his

carriage; he had a want of those young faces.

Soames, who had to arrange some details in the cemetery office, walked

away with Bosinney. He had much to talk over with him, and, having

finished his business, they strolled to Hampstead, lunched together

at the Spaniard's Inn, and spent a long time in going into practical

details connected with the building of the house; they then proceeded to

the tram-line, and came as far as the Marble Arch, where Bosinney went

off to Stanhope Gate to see June.

Soames felt in excellent spirits when he arrived home, and confided to

Irene at dinner that he had had a good talk with Bosinney, who really

seemed a sensible fellow; they had had a capital walk too, which had

done his liver good--he had been short of exercise for a long time--and

altogether a very satisfactory day. If only it hadn't been for poor Aunt

Ann, he would have taken her to the theatre; as it was, they must make

the best of an evening at home.

"The Buccaneer asked after you more than once," he said suddenly. And

moved by some inexplicable desire to assert his proprietorship, he rose

from his chair and planted a kiss on his wife's shoulder.