"When a Forsyte decides to buy something, it is part of his nature to pretend he doesn't want it." "But when my father-in-law goes to buy a picture, he is caution personified." "In his opinion, all modern painters will be dead before he is." "So the obviously thing to do is to buy one of those already dead, and what's more, only those of the dead who are sure to live." "My father in law is convinced that Morland is one of those, and he's most probably right." "Oh, I was looking at the tail, some good painting in that." "Yes, mister Forsyte, of course." "We've met before." "Yes." "My grandfather bought it from the painter." "There's a note on the back." "I don't want to part with it, but these are lean years." "Would you like to see the back?" "Oh, I always look at the back." "So do I." "It's sometimes the best part of the picture." "Will you give me a hand?" "Yes." "There's just a hook... ah, yes." "That's right." "Thank you." "You know, mr." "Forsyte, there's something in the hereditary principle when it comes to the sale of heirlooms." "One knows the provenance." "Oh, yes, I dare say." "But I can see it's genuine without that." ""George Morland to lord George Ferrar"." "For value received, 80 pounds, 1797."" "Yes." "He came into the title later." "Hm?" "My grandfather, I mean." "Ah, yes." "I'm glad Morland got his money." "Great rips, our grandfathers, mr." "Forsyte." "Days of great rips, those." "Oh, he was a great rip, Morland." "But he could paint." "You know in those days, people could buy with confidence." "They can't now." "Oh, not so sure.Not so sure." "The electrification of art may be a necessary process." "We're all moving, mr." "Forsyte, very fast." "Yes, well, the pace doesn't matter, as long as it leads somewhere." "You know,it's astonishing how seldom anyone says anything to me of any interest." "Well, now." "What do you think would be a fair price?" "Oh, well, why not get another opinion?" " Oh, Demetrius?" "Oh, that haymarket man?" "Is his opinion better than yours?" "That I can't say." "He'd probably value the picture at five guineas and make you an offer." "Well, I don't care for it to be known that I'm selling pictures." "Well, I wouldn't want you to get less than you might." "Now if I were to ask Demetrius to buy me a Morland, well, 500 would be my limit." "Well, shall we say six?" "Oh, that would be too generous, perhaps." "Five-fifty?" " Oh, we won't haggle." "Six." "Now, you can have a check, and I'll take it away with me." "It'll hang in my gallery at Mapledurham." "Well, I'm really obliged to you,and I'm delighted to think it will go to a good home." "Near the river, I believe." "Yes." "Have you your own electric plant there?" "Yes." "You know, if you hang those still-lifes a little closer, this won't be missed." "You think so?" "So much for my father-in-law, efficient as ever." "But my other Forsyte?" "Not so predictable." "When two people live together, and one of them is in love, he's bound to be sensitive to the emotions of the other." "But Fleur, restless, was no new thing, and what she was really feeling, she concealed as well from me as from everyone else." "Oh." "Oh, it's you." "Oh, come in." "Thank you." "I expected you last week." "Well, I've been rather busy." "I dare say." "Though what you find to do all day... hm." "Jon and Anne are in town." "Oh, Harold's painting a beautiful thing of her." "It'll be quite unique." "Well, what do you think of her,now you've met?" " Anne?" "A nice little thing." "Pretty too." "Jon's obviously devoted." "And mr." "Blade?" " Oh!" "Has he been bowled over?" " No, no, no." "Harold sees her merely as a composition, you know." "In white." "Shades of whistler." "Oh." "Now, fleur, if you wouldn't mind waiting in here..." "I have to go out, something Harold wants, but I'll be out only 10 minutes." "Then I'll take you in, and he'll see you." "Well, I hope he'll approve." "I think he will." "You have got a sort of early renaissance look, although you're so modern." "Oh, good." "And if he does decide to paint you, you won't regret it." "Is Soames coming?" "I'll bring him." "Good." "Thank you." "You know, Harold's the only man doing real work just now." "It's lucky there is one." "That'll do." "Take a rest." "Thanks." "I can do with one." "Darling." "Mm-hm?" "Oh, sorry." "Well, you exhausted?" "Pretty tired." "But Jon, you must let him paint you too." "Oh, I don't know." "Why?" "Because then we can start behaving like ancestors." "Oh, all right." "Here." "Thank you." "Let's see." "Well...?" "Well, here I am,and where's Val?" "Hm?" "He said it was important." "The traffic, dear." "But it must be important." "Val hates town." "Oh, has he still got that young chap and his wife?" "What's her name?" "Anne." "Yes, american, I believe." "Yes, they're still at Wansdon." "Isn't he ever going to do anything?" " Yes." "Val tells me he's found a farm." "A farm?" "In England?" "What's he want to do that for?" " He's throwing his money away." "Do much better to go back to america, or try South Africa." "At least his half-brother died out there." "That would surely be an odd reason." "But no, I don't believe he'll leave England again." "After all, he has tried America and Canada." "Amateurs, all the young Forsytes." "How much has he got a year?" "The same as Holly and June, about 2000 until his mother dies." "Oh, his mother." "You know, I remember when, yes, a beggarly 50 pounds a year, that's all she had, and that was too much, putting ideas into her head." "Now, Soames." "Ah, there you are." "Hello, mother." "There you are, lovely to see you." "I'm very glad to see you, uncle Soames." "Oh?" "What's all this about?" "This." "There you are, val, dear." "Have some coffee." "Thank you, mother." "Well, I've known impudence in my time, but this chap, Stainford." "Well, what do you think I should do?" "Do?" "Tear it up." "What is it, dear?" "Is he asking for money?" "What else?" "50 pounds." "Stainford says he knows something about Rondavel." "Huh?" " Oh, you know?" "Yes, yes, of course." "We won all that money on it." "Yes, but the starting price was only four to one." "Now the colt's gone sick, just before Goodwood." "Something's wrong, and Stainford claims to know what." "Well, is that possible?" "Oh, yes." "So I've asked him to come here this afternoon." "Here?" "This afternoon?" "Yes, because if I'm going to see him," "I thought uncle Soames should be here in case I make a fool of myself." "Yes, well, there's something in that." "Oh, well, if you must have him here, then clear the room first." "Yes, and Winifred, get Smither to hide the umbrellas." "Family portrait?" "Uh, no, sir." "That's a Goya." "The devil it is." "Goy..." "that's jewish for christian." "Female christian, what?" "No, it's the name of a spanish painter." "No idea there were any except Velasquez." "He's dead, you know." "Yes, indeed." "Ga, these modern painters, you know what I'd do?" "I'd strangle the lot of them." "Oh, certainly, Fanfield." "But why stick at modern painters, eh?" "My dear boy, that was my shin." "I know." "Shall we get on with it, sir?" "Oh, certainly." "Gentlemen?" "Gentlemen." "Gentlemen, I propose that the squire takes the chair." "Will you second that, marquess?" "Oh, by all means." "Good, well,you sit over there, then." "Thank you." "Come along, sir Timothy." "That is the existing scheme." "Here we are, marquess." "That's the existing scheme." "Now then, I won't beat about the bush." "You all know as much about it as I do, which is precious little, if one is to be perfectly honest." "The whole thing is the idea of mr." "Hilary charwell, here, so I shall ask him to explain it." "The slums are c-3 breeders, and verminous into the bargain, and anything that we can do to abate this nuisance," "I, for one, should be most happy to do." "Will you give tongue, mr." "Charwell?" "Thank you, squire." "Clergymen are bores by definition, gentlemen,- for two reasons." "One: we're always wanting something." "And two:" "All we're trained to do is talk." "Well, I'll tell you what I want as briefly as possible." "The slums in our cities are a national disgrace." "Hear, hear." "And there are only two ways of dealing with that disgrace." "You can sweep the whole lot away, destroy every filthy hovel in the land and start again." "The cost of that has been estimated at 2000 million." "Where is it coming from?" "Taxation?" "And how long would it take?" "Exactly." "The other way, now this is what I am proposing, is to induce people with capital to invest it, not merely the rich, to invest it in a general slum conversion fund, and to affiliate every other slum conversion society at present existing," "provided they conforms to one principle, namely that the inhabitants shall not to be displaced." "What interest do you pay?" "Two and a half percent, rising to four as time goes on." "And what do you do with the capital?" "We buy up slum property as cheaply as we can get it, just as we've started to do at the meads, as you see from these pieces of paper." "Then, house by house, street by street..." "You electrify them." "Yes, marquess, we do." "And we disinfest the walls, re-floor the rooms, give them decent plumbing and hot water." "But hold on there." "Doesn't that mean a much higher rent?" "You'd be surprised how little more." "Less than a council flat." "And, gentlemen, the people are not dispossessed." "What we aim to do is to dispossess the slum landlords." "Dispossess them!" "I'd string them up!" "I'd torture them!" "Good lord,the committee meeting." "Ah, Coaker, have they had tea?" "Mr. Mont said half past four, ma'am." "Ah, good." "Well, then I'll come down and pour out." "Is my father in?" "No, ma'am." "He phoned to say he was lunching at mrs." "Dartie'S." "Oh, I see." "Thank you." "It's that gentleman, sir." "The one that took the you-know-what." "Yes, I know what." "Show him in, Smither." "Very good, sir." "Mr. Stainford, sir." "Hello, Stainford." "Brandy or whiskey?" "Brandy, thanks." "You wanted to see me." "My uncle here is my solicitor." "Yes, we have met." "Indeed, yes." "Well?" "I'm sorry your colt's gone amiss, Dartie." "Now, how did you know that?" "Exactly." "But before I tell you, do you mind giving me 50 pounds and your word that my name's not mentioned?" "Now, how do I know that the information's worth a penny?" "Because of the fact that I know about your colt." "You mean you know where the leakage is?" "Fifty pounds." "Hm." "Is your information of real value?" "On my honor." "Hmph." "And if I buy it, can you guarantee the leak will stop?" "I doubt if there's more than one." "Not yet... first tell me your story." "Then if it sounds plausible, you shall have the money." "I'm more trusting than you are, Dartie." "All right." "Get rid of a boy called sinnet." "He's the leak." "Sinnet!" "I don't believe it." "That's a serious allegation." "Have you got proof?" "Well?" ""The colt's amiss all right." "He'll be no use at Goodwood."" "All right." "But does that mean he engineered it?" "May I keep this?" "If you'll promise not to show it to him." "Very well." "Now, this is all very fishy." "Do you know Sinnet's handwriting?" "Not yet." "Oh, now, hold on... tell me, did you get at Sinnet the day you came down to see me?" "Don't let him go like that." "It's monstrous." "It's funny.Damn funny." "Funny?" "I don't know what things are coming to." "Well, he got 50 of the best out of me, but it was worth it." "Sinnet, one of my best men." "To corrupt one of your men and then get you to pay him for it." "Ah, that's what tickles me." "Well, it doesn't tickle me." "And what use it was having me here, I... the fellow ought to be shot." "Tell your mother I've gone round to fleur'S." "No tea, sir Timothy?" "Tea?" "Never touch the stuff." "Chap who invented tea should have been hamstrung." "Well, what about a whiskey and soda then, sir?" "Not before sundown." "You ought to know that." "Do you think it'll go?" "Probably." "We're a rum old lot, and no mistake." "But Hilary here has a persuasive tongue." "Well, gentlemen, shall we continue?" "You know what we talked about?" "Yes." "Well, I think I've got it." "Good for you.Yes." "Now then." "We've all agreed that we want to form this fund." "And we've all had a look at the draft appeal got out by mr." "Hilary Charwell here." "We can discuss it if you wish, but time's getting on, gentlemen." "And I think it fills the bill." "What do you say, shropshire?" "Oh, admirable, I'd say, with one exception." "Not sufficient stress on electrifying the kitchens." "I want something that will make slum landlords sit up." "We're here to twist their tails, aren't we, damn it?" "The appeal's too mild." "Well, what do you suggest then, Fanfield?" "Well, I have a note here." ""We record our conviction that anyone who owns slum property ought to be shot."" "Now hold hard." "These gentlemen..." "No, no, no." "That won't do." "Why not, eh?" "Why not?" "All sorts of respectable people own slum property." "Syndicates." "Dukes." "Widows." "Even the church, eh, Charwell?" "Yes, I'm afraid so." "Well, then." "We can't go calling them gentlemen and saying they ought to be shot." "Oh, it won't do." "Might we not word it like this?" ""We much regret that those who own slum property" ""are not more alive to their responsibilities to the community at large."" "Community at large, my foot." "Don't you think we ought to have a lawyer here to tell us exactly how far we can go?" "Yes, Mont." "I do think so." "Well, what about my father-in-law?" "He's staying here at present." "And I dare say he'd advise us, if we asked him." "Old Forsyte, just the man." "I think we ought to have him on the committee, squire." "Forsyte?" "By all means,a steady brain." "He bought my Morland,don't you know?" "Gave me a decent price for it too, or I shouldn't be here." "Well, let's co-opt him then." "A lawyer's always useful." "I'll see if he's in, sir." "Good." "What's going on here?" "Something to do with the slums, sir, I believe." "Oh." "Well, don't put my hat with that lot." "Ah, well met, sir." "Huh?" "The very man we need." "Indeed?" "Why?" "My slum committee are just drafting their appeal to the public, and they'd be awfully glad of your help, sir." "Oh, what can I do?" "Well, as a law you could check the allusions to slum landlords." "In case of libel, sir?" "Libel?" "Oh, we don't want anymore of that." "Well, exactly." "In fact, if it wouldn't bore you terribly," "I think they'd like to co-opt you onto the committee, sir." "Oh, they would, would they?" "Who are they?" "Oh, it's a good collection." "There's the marquess of Shropshire, you know him." "My father." "Sir Timothy Fanfield." "A lot of titles." "Is this a wildcat thing?" "Oh, lord, no, sir." "Oh, all right." "I'll come and have a look at them." "Good." "I think you'll find them a quite respectable lot." "Yes, of course, you know this isn't quite my line of country." "Well, Forsyte, this is a pleasure." "Let me introduce you to our chairman, mr." "Wilfred Bentworth." "Mr. Soames Forsyte." "Mr. Forsyte." "Good of you to join us." "Glad to see you.Very glad indeed." "Now, then." "If you'll be so good, just cast your eye over this." "As a lawyer, mr." "Forsyte, you can help us a great deal." "We want you to join us on this committee to keep us straight." "Check our fire-eaters, like Fanfield there." "Yes... yes, with the hearty cooperation of the slum owners, much might be accomplished." "We do not wish to hold them up to the execration of anyone." "Well, if you don't, you don'T." "But why say so?" "Exactly." "Precisely my own view." "Yes, and that word "execration", that's a very strong word." "Too strong." "It's most valuable to have you on the committee, mr." "Forsyte." "Oh, not at all." "well, I'm not sure that I'm coming on yet." "Look here, sir." "Do you mean to say we can't use an inoffensive word like execration, when we know they ought to be shot?" "You could use it if you like, but not with me or any other man of judgment on the committee." "Hear, hear!" "Then we'll pass that clause without those words." "Agreed?" "Well, that's that." "I don't think there's anything more." "I must be going." "One moment, mr." "Chairman." "Yes, mr." "Montross?" "I know more about these people than any of you here." "I started life in the slums, and I tell you something." "Suppose you get some money." "Suppose you convert some streets." "Will you convert those people?" "No, gentlemen, you won't." "Their children, mr." "Montross, their children." "I have nothing against the appeal, mr." "Charwell, but I am a self-made man and a realist." "And I know what we are up against." "I shall put some money into the scheme, but I want you to know that I do so with my eyes open." "Capital, capital." "So do we all, I hope." "Well, mr." "Forsyte, are you joining us?" "Oh, well, I'll go into the matter and let you know." "Well, thank you very much, gentlemen." "Squire." "Squire, you can leave all this to me, sir." "Printing the appeal, and so on." "I'll get a draft copy around to the members before the next meeting." "I'm obliged." "Now when do you think that should be?" "Oh, I should think next week." "A Goya, I think, and a good one." "Yes." "Didn't it once belong to Burlingford?" "Yes." "Yes, I bought that from Burlingford when he sold his pictures in 1910." "I thought so.Poor fellow." "He got very rattled, I remember, over the House of lords' bill." "But you see, they haven't abolished us yet." "Yeah, they're a dilatory lot in parliament." "Just as well, perhaps." "It leaves them leisure for repentance." "Look, uncle Hilary, don't go." "Wait and see fleur." "She's got a scheme that might interest you." "By all means." "Good, splendid." "Leisure!" "Leisure for repentance." "Ha ha ha!" "Oh!" "Your hat, sir." "Thank you, thank you, my dear." "What's your name?" "Coaker, my lord." "Coaker?" "There, now." "Coaker." "Stoker." "Pittman." "Collier." "Good old names in their day." "But out of date, as antiquated as Bowyer and Fletcher." "When you get married, Coakman, take my advice, marry John electrician, he's the man of the future." "Make no mistake about that." "Well, good day to you all." "Good day, marquess." "Good day." "Good day, sir." "And thank you." "Coaker, ask my wife to join us in the dining room, will you?" "Yes, sir." "Come along, uncle Hilary." "I think we could all do with a drink." "I don't know that we've actually met before." "My name is charw spelt "charwell" and originally "keroual."" "On the good old english principle of confusing the foreigner." "Ah." "I don't know whether you've made up your mind, Forsyte, but if you do join us, I'll be delighted." "Yes, well, as I said, this isn't really my line." "I'd have to sign the appeal, I suppose." "Oh, with the rest of us, yes." "And that would get into the papers,I shouldn't wonder." "is that so awful?" "In a good cause?" "Well, they'll think I've taken leave of my senses." "Who will, sir?" "Well, the family, of course." "Oh." "Oh, there you are, Fleur." "Hello." "My dear." "Well, uncle Hilary, how did it go?" "A good start, I think." "Good." "Now." "What about this scheme of yours?" "Scheme?" "What scheme?" "Well, shall I tell them, Michael?" "well, I'll start, but you can finish." "Thank you." "Thank you, Fleur." "Dad?" "Oh, thank you, my dear." "Thank you, Michael." "Well, now, running this canteen, you see, has given Fleur the taste for power." "No, it's true." "She made a first-rate job of it." "Yes, I heard about that." "So after we both came down to see you at the meads last week, she decided to start a, well, I suppose you'd call it a rest house." "A what?" "A place in the country." "Uh, somewhere for working girls, oh, you know, uncle Hilary, to come for a few days." "Rest and fresh air." "About eight at a time, we thought." " That's excellent." " Think they'll come?" "Oh, I'm sure they will." "Well, I've been seeing agents,and today, Michael, I think I've got it." "Where?" "Dorking." "It's near Box Hill, it's quite big enough, very quiet and the air's marvelous." "Splendid." "But... hold on." "Who's going to pay for all this?" "Oh, Fleur wants to do that herself, sir." "Oh." "Oh, well, that shows you're serious." "Oh, yes." "Yes, I am." "Well, I can manage all the living expenses perfectly well myself, including staff." "A man and his wife." "But, well, I was wondering if you'd stump up for rent and rates." "Stump up?" "How much?" "Only 200 a year." "Well, I... oh, duckie, when you think of the good we can do." "It is worth doing, sir." "These girls work 10 hours a day in factories and sweatshops." "And they live in a bug-infested slum." "Well, all right, yes, very well." "Good for you, sir." "Only, as for these young ladies,well, don't let me see them, that's all." "You won't regret this, Forsyte." "Money spent in the best possible way." "Michael, I must go." "Yes?" "I'll see you out." "Goodbye, Fleur." "Well done." "Thank you" "Goodbye, Forsyte." "And thank you." "Very plausible chap, that." "But then, I suppose he has to be." "Oh, by the way, what about this young painter June's got hold of?" "I thought you wanted me to see his work." "Yes, if you like." "Well..." "I'm not too keen, but Michael wants a portrait of me." "Yes, quite right." "When do you want to go?" "Sometime next week, say tuesday." "Yes." "Well, I think I'll go up and change, huh?" "Well, let's hope the fellow can paint, that's all." "And same to you." "Will Val be here for dinner?" "No." "I persuaded him to stay the night in town." "And he takes some persuading, I can tell you." "It's strange, isn't it?" "When one thinks of his father, the complete man about town." "Poor Winifred." "She had a lot to put up with one way and another." "Oh, but she adored him, didn't she?" "Yes." "Yes, I think she did." "And Val... how lucky he was to meet you." "Nonsense." "Not at all." "But you were lucky too, Holly, because if jo... if your father hadn't been what he was... if he'd really been a Forsyte... oh, I know." "He was wonderful." "Yes." "Irene." "Yes?" " If Jon decides to buy Greenhill, or any other farm, will you live with them?" "No, that wouldn't do at all." "What will you do?" "I've been thinking about it." "I may go to live in Paris." "Paris?" "Mm." "But why Paris?" "Because I like it." "I have friends there, you know." "And Jo once said to me when we were there, "Paris suits you."" "He was right too.It does." "But it's so far away and you'd be all alone." "I shall come over often to stay with Jon and Anne." "Oh, and with us." "Of course, dear." "But Irene, look... why don't you settle here at Wansdon?" "Oh, Val and I would both like it." "You know we should." "Take a little flat in Paris, of course, if you want to, go there whenever you wish." "But make this your home." "And you'll be near enough to Greenhill to see anne and Jon whenever you wanted to, but not But not near enough to be a nuisance?" "It's a happy thought, Holly and it's like you to think of it." "Oh, seriously, Irene." "Val and I have talked this over, you know, and we're agreed." "So you needn't think it's just me." "We both want you." "May I think about it?" "Well, of course, but I do hope..." "they're back." "Now, what's the news, I wonder?" "Well?" "We've been and gone and done it." "Settle for Greenhill?" "Yes." "Oh!" "Jon, I'm so glad." "Well done." "Jon, oh, that's splendid." "Well, when do you move in?" " The end of september." "Is there much to be done?" " Oh, a tremendous amount." "Especially to the house." "But that's my province, and am I looking forward to it." "So, Jon, it's England from now on." "Yes." "I'm not going to play at things any longer." "I've played twice." "This time I'm going all out." "But you weren't playing in North Carolina." "Well, not exactly, but... well, this is different." "Somehow it didn't matter out there." "I mean, what are peaches,anyway?" "Here it does, it matters a lot." "I mean to make things pay." "Well, I never thought I'd hear you say that." "Well, paying's the only proof." "I'm going to go in for tomatoes, onions, asparagus." "I shall work the arable for all it's worth, and if I get any more land, I will." "Bully for you." "Jon, what energy." "Oh, it's terrifying, isn't it?" "But there's one thing that I've made him promise." "Oh, what's that?" "To have his portrait done." "By June's new genius?" "Yes." "Mine's finished, you know." "And we both like it." "So Jon's agreed to go and sit there once a week now, because once we start at Greenhill, I just know he never will." "Oh, Jon, this is marvelous news..." "yes." "Yes, it's very good." "he's got her to the life." "Don't you think so, Fleur?" "Mm, I agree." "Yes." "Oh, I say, look here,isn't this...?" "Anne Forsyte, Jon's wife." "Do you like it?" "Is it finished?" "Yes." "It's going down to them in the morning." "Ah." "Yes, yes, it's quite clever." "Oh, the lily's excellent." "Daddy, look." "June's new refugee." "Good, isn't it?" "Yes, quite recognizable." "Yes, well, it'S... not at all bad." "Very kind of you to say so." "Yes, well, you want to paint my daughter." "What's your figure?" "A hundred and fifty wha...?" "That's steep, for these days." "You're a young man." "You... oh, well, however, if you make a good job of it." "You've seen my work." "Well, I dare say." "But you think all your geese are swans." "I never met a painter yet who didn't." "Well, you won't keep her sitting too long, I hope." "She's busy." "That's settled, then." "Good." "Well, goodbye." "Goodbye." "Fleur." "I have to go, don't bother to... yes, I'm going around to your aunt'S." "Old Gradman's meeting me there." "Are you going to come?" "Thanks, duckie, but I'm going to Sloane square, there's a sale there." "You know, things for the rest house." "Ah." "Thank you." "Well, you can arrange the sittings to suit yourself." "Then you liked him?" "Oh, better than you'd think from the look of him." "He's a forbidding chap." "A painter has to be like that." "Otherwise people might think he's cadging." "Yes, I suppose there's something in that." "Well, if you won't let me give you a lift." "No, thanks, duckie, I need the walk." "All right, my dear." "Look after yourself, will you?" " And don't go overdoing things." "Hello, June." "So you weren't out." "Of course not." "I just didn't want to see your father." "Now, what have you come back for?" "Well, we forgot to arrange the first sitting." "Oh, we'll ask Harold." "Thank you." "I'm so glad Soames agreed." "The price is nominal, of course..." "I liked the thing he's done of Anne." "Exquisite, isn't it?" " And Jon?" "Yes." "Anne finally persuaded him." "Oh, they'll make a splendid pair." "He's coming every morning for a week." "Not nearly enough, really." "Harold ought to have a fortnight... oh, June, excuse me, could we change that?" " Get Jon to come in the afternoons." "I suppose I might." "Why?" "Well, you see, the mornings are really the only time for me." "I go down to dorking most afternoons." "I told you, the rest house." "Oh, yes." "Though what people want to rest for, I don't know." "All right, I'll telephone Jon." "Good." "What should I wear?" " Oh, we'll, ask Harold." "Harold, what do you want mrs." "Mont to wear?" "Gold and silver." "Extraordinary." "Oh, Fleur, he's seen through you at once." "Your gold and silver room." "Harold, how did you?" "I happen to have an old folly dress, it's gold and silver, with bells." "A folly!" "I haven't worn it since I was married." "The very thing, if it's pretty." "Oh, it is." "Some are hideous." "Oh, no, and it makes a charming sound." "Well, I can't paint that." "No, but you could suggest it, Harold, like Leonardo." "Leonardo?" "Oh, well, I know he's not exactly your... no makeup on your face." "Oh?" "No." "I prefer to do the paintwork myself." "So you see, Gradman, I've been thinking." "Well, if anything should happen to me, or to you, things would soon be in queer street." "Oh, we won't think about that." "Oh, we must, gradman, we're neither of us young men." "Well, I'm not a chicken, but..." "well, you're no age, mr." "Soames." "Seventy-one." "Dear me, well, it seems only the other day I took you down to preparatory school at Slough." "I remember those days better than yesterday." "Yes, so do I, Gradman." "And that's a sign of age." "Do you recollect that young chap who came and told me about Elderson?" "Oh, yes, yes, nice young fellow." "Buttermilk, or some such name." "Butterfield." "Oh, 'field." "Yes." "Well, I've decided to put him under you at the office," "I want you to get him au fait with everything." "Well, it seems like going to meet trouble." "I'm quite up to the work." "Oh, I know how you feel, Gradman." "I feel much the same myself, but, well, we... time doesn't stand still for anyone, and we have to look to the future." "None of us live forever." "Aye." "Well, mr." "Soames." "You've made up your mind, there's no more to be said." "But I don't like it." "I don't like it at all." "Well, that fellow riggs..." "the car's outside." "He'll drive you to your station." "Thank you just the same, mr." "Soames, but I'd rather walk, thank you." "I like the air." "Are you going, mr." "Gradman?" "Have a glass of port before you do." "No?" "Thank you, no, mrs." "Dartie." "Good evening." "Good evening, mr." "Gradman." "Soames, he's very upset." "Yes." "Well, he's a faithful old chap." "I thought I'd drop in at Polkington's, get him a bit of plate, rose-bowl or some such." "Yes, indeed." "I'll have it engraved." ""To Joseph Gradman, in gratitude from the Forsyte family", something like that?" "Something like that, yes." "Silver, about 40 guineas." "That would do very well, dear." "Our grandfather, now there was a character." "Superior Dosset." "Imagine being called Superior Dosset." "Oh, we've come a long way from that." "Yes, I dare say." "But what have we gained, Winifred?" "Hm?" "What have we lost?" "Would you like a rest?" "Oh, goodness, yes." "Well, may I look?" "There's nothing to look at yet." "Oh, I don't know." "Am I a good sitter?" "Not bad." "What about my cousin Jon?" "No, he takes no interest." "Got something on his mind, probably." "Well, he's a poet, you know." "Poet?" "Yes." "Nonsense." "His head's the wrong shape." "Too much jaw, for one thing." "Don't you find him an attractive subject?" "Well, I paint anything, pretty or ugly as sin." "Look at Rafael's pope." "Did you ever see a better portrait, or an uglier man?" "Ugliness isn't attractive, but it's there." "That's obvious.I state the obvious." "People have got so far away from the obvious that a platitude startles them." "And nothing else does." "Mm." "Interesting." "Of course, the platitude's got to be stated with force and clarity." "Do you know, I met a man last night who said he's spent four years writing 22 lines of verse that no one could understand?" "How's that for tripe, eh?" "But it'll make him quite a reputation until someone else writes 22 lines in five years with even less meaning." "The smart boys' ideal poet is a chimpanzee with a typewriter." "Yes, talk's the thing nowadays, though I must say, your cousin doesn't talk much." "Silence is quite a quality." "Meaning that I haven't got it, eh?" "Well, you're wrong." "I once went a fortnight without opening my mouth." "She really got worried." "I don't think you're very kind to her." "I can't afford to be." "She's after my soul." "Like all women, they're not content with their own." "Come on." "Perhaps they haven't got any." "The mohammedan view." "Ah, there something in that." "A woman's always after the soul of a man, or the child." "Men are content with wanting bodies." "Yes." "Well..." "I'm more interested in your theory of platitudes, mr." "Blade." "Strikes home, eh?" "I wasn't being personal." "No?" "Head a little more to the right." "That's it." "What platitude will my portrait express?" "Oh, don't you worry." "There'll be one, all right." "Character will out." "Yes." "And my cousin's wife?" "Oh, God, what a catechism!" "yeah, I got her all right." "She throws back to something." "Irish, perhaps, or breton." "A touch of the nymph." "She was brought up in the backwoods, I believe." "Ah, you don't like the lady?" "Certainly, I do." "And my cousin, what's his platitude to be?" "Conscience." "That chap will go far on the straight and narrow." "What a dreadful prophecy." "True, though." "He's got a conscience, all right." "He worries." "Yes, the whole question of inheritence is a damn nuissance." "All I can leave Michael is a few hundred acres of land that he doesn't want." "Yes, and nobody else wants either." "Thank you." "Port, Bart?" "Oh, thank you." "What'll you do with your pictures, Forsyte, when you take the ferry?" "What?" "Leave them to the nation?" "Oh, well, it depends on how they treat me." "If they clap me on anymore death duties, I'll revoke the bequest." "The principle of our ancestors, eh?" "Voluntary service or nothing at all." "Good fellows, our ancestors." "I don't know about yours, but mine were only... thank you, my dear." "Only Dorset farmers,yeomen." "Matter of fact, I've decided to go down and have a look at them." "Good idea, daddy." "When?" "The day after tomorrow." "Oh, would you, you wouldn't care to come along, would you?" "Well, I'd love to, but, well, what with my portrait, and the rest house, you know." "Ah, yes, yes." "How's that venture going?" "Very well, Bart. The first batch of girls are installed and they seem to like it." "Aren't they difficult?" " No, quite model." "Uncle Hilary and I packed them into the train at Charing cross." "He wasn't wearing his dog collar, and the guard took a very hard look at us." "I think he suspected white slavery." "Michael, don't be so absurd." "No, I assure you." "I felt quite guilty." "Well, I must be going." "There's a division at 9:00 and the whips are on." "Well, I'll walk down with you, if I may." "All right, bart." "Will you excuse me, Fleur?" "Oh, how's Kit?" "Splendid, thank you." "Well, goodbye, my dear." "Good night, Bart." "And thank you." "Thank you." "Good night, Forsyte." "Oh, good night." "I shan't be late, darling." "Good night, darling." "How long will you be away?" "It's only 300 miles." "I should be back on the third day, that's if that fellow Riggs doesn't lose the road or run out of petrol." "I was wondering if you'd like to take Kit and his nurse down with you as far as Mapledurham?" "Yes, yes, if you wish." "He does love it so there in the fine weather, and we can't get away to the sea until parliament rises." "Oh, well, perhaps I'd better postpone my visit." "No, duckie." "No need for that." "Oh, very well." "I'll join you at the weekend." "Yes, and bring Michael." "He could do with a bit of fresh air, I shouldn't wonder." "What are you going to do with your portrait when it's finished?" "Well, it'll be yours." "Mine?" "Well, yes, I know, but, you'll hang it here." "Michael will want it." "Well,I expect he'll put it in the drawing room." "Oh, I'm wearing my old follies dress, you know, silver and gold." "Oh, yes, I remember." "Yes, the thing with bells." "Yes." "Yes." "I think all that part of it's rather good." "What, not the face?" "Well, perhaps." "I don't like painters." "They see too clearly." "Well, that's what they're paid to do." "Mind you, if he doesn't..." "hasn't done you justice, I shan't take it." "The rafaelite will have something to say about that." "So will june." "Yes, I dare say." "Have they... has he sent that picture of that young woman away yet?" "Jon's wife?" "Yes." "Oh, yes, ages ago." "Hm, your cousin Val telephoned me this morning." "He's had his name forged on a check." "Yes, that scoundrel Stainford." "Some people have got no moral sense at all." "Common honesty, it used to be the best policy, but now..." "I don't know." "Isn't that just old victorian bromide?" "Victorian?" "Where'd you get that notion from?" "Well, if it's only the best policy, there can't be much virtue in it." "Yes, I suppose you think of me as an old victorian too, huh?" "Well, aren't you, duckie?" "You had 46 years of her." "Well, I've had 25 without her, and I hope to have a few more." "Many, many." "Can't expect that." "Yes." "Anyway, on monday you'll be down among the old georgians." "Oh." "Yes, they say there's an old church out down there." "I might find an inscription or two." "Yes, that reminds me," "I've bought the corner bit in the churchyard at Mapledurham." "It'll do me as well as anything." "Strange sound the town makes at night." "When you think of it, it's made up of the sounds of millions of people" "all leading their different lives." "Yes, except we're all going one way." "Oh, we're not going any way." "There's only pace." "No." "There must be direction too." "Change, of course, but that's all." "For better or worse, but that's direction in itself." "Perhaps." "But only to the edge, michael, then... whoops." "Over we go." "The gadarene swine?" "That's one name for us." "No, you mustn't think that." "Oh, I'll admit we're on a tightrope, but there's still common sense." "Common sense?" "Well, what use is that in the face of passion?" "I thought you were all for common sense." "Anyway, Fleur, what passion?" "The passion to know, or the passion to have?" "Both of them." "They rule the present age, Michael, and I'm a child of it." "You're not." "I'm not so sure." "Anyway, Fleur, if there's anything particular... you want to know," "or to have..." "I'd like you to tell me." "Only the moon." "Only the moon, Michael."