had he managed
to go on so long in that town devoid of the scent of sweetpeas, where he
had not even space to put his treasures? True, those had been years
with no time at all for looking at them--years of almost passionate
money-making, during which Forsyte, Bustard and Forsyte had become
solicitors to more limited Companies than they could properly attend to.
Up to the City of a morning in a Pullman car, down from the City of an
evening in a Pullman car. Law papers again after dinner, then the sleep
of the tired, and up again next morning. Saturday to Monday was spent at
his Club in town--curious reversal of customary procedure, based on the
deep and careful instinct that while working so hard he needed sea air
to and from the station twice a day, and while resting must indulge his
domestic affections. The Sunday visit to his family in Park Lane, to
Timothy's, and to Green Street; the occasional visits elsewhere had
seemed to him as necessary to health as sea air on weekdays. Even since
his migration to Mapledurham he had maintained those habits until--he
had known Annette.

Whether Annette had produced the revolution in his outlook, or that
outlook had produced Annette, he knew no more than we know where a
circle begins. It was intricate and deeply involved with the growing
consciousness that property without anyone to leave it to is the
negation of true Forsyteism. To have an heir, some continuance of self,
who would begin where he left off--ensure, in fact, that he would not
leave off--had quite obsessed him for the last year and more. After
buying a bit of Wedgwood one evening in April, he had dropped into Malta
Street to look at a house of his father's which had been turned into a
restaurant--a risky proceeding, and one not quite in accordance with the
terms of the lease. He had stared for a little at the outside painted
a good cream colour, with two peacock-blue tubs containing little
bay-trees in a recessed doorway--and at the words 'Restaurant Bretagne'
above them in gold letters, rather favourably impressed. Entering, he
had noticed that several people were already seated at little round
green tables with little pots of fresh flowers on them and Brittany-ware
plates, and had asked of a trim waitress to see the proprietor. They had
shown him into a back room, where a girl was sitting at a simple bureau
covered with papers, and a small round, table was laid for two. The
impression of cleanliness, order, and goo