embodied in
slightly scented grey paper, an upright fine handwriting, and the words,
'Dear Cousin Jolyon.' Man of property that he now was, the slender
cheque he signed often gave rise to the thought: 'Well, I suppose she
just manages'; sliding into a vague wonder how she was faring otherwise
in a world of men not wont to let beauty go unpossessed. At first
Holly had spoken of her sometimes, but 'ladies in grey' soon fade from
children's memories; and the tightening of June's lips in those first
weeks after her grandfather's death whenever her former friend's name
was mentioned, had discouraged allusion. Only once, indeed, had June
spoken definitely: "I've forgiven her. I'm frightfully glad she's
independent now...."

On receiving Soames' card, Jolyon said to the maid--for he could not
abide butlers--"Show him into the study, please, and say I'll be there
in a minute"; and then he looked at Holly and asked:

"Do you remember 'the lady in grey,' who used to give you
music-lessons?"

"Oh yes, why? Has she come?"

Jolyon shook his head, and, changing his holland blouse for a coat, was
silent, perceiving suddenly that such history was not for those young
ears. His face, in fact, became whimsical perplexity incarnate while he
journeyed towards the study.

Standing by the french-window, looking out across the terrace at the oak
tree, were two figures, middle-aged and young, and he thought: 'Who's
that boy? Surely they never had a child.'

The elder figure turned. The meeting of those two Forsytes of the second
generation, so much more sophisticated than the first, in the house
built for the one and owned and occupied by the other, was marked by
subtle defensiveness beneath distinct attempt at cordiality. 'Has he
come about his wife?' Jolyon was thinking; and Soames, 'How shall
I begin?' while Val, brought to break the ice, stood negligently
scrutinising this 'bearded pard' from under his dark, thick eyelashes.

"This is Val Dartie," said Soames, "my sister's son. He's just going up
to Oxford. I thought I'd like him to know your boy."

"Ah! I'm sorry Jolly's away. What college?"

"B.N.C.," replied Val.

"Jolly's at the 'House,' but he'll be delighted to look you up."

"Thanks awfully."

"Holly's in--if you could put up with a female relation, she'd show you
round. You'll find her in the hall if you go through the curtains. I was
just painting her."

With another "Thanks, awfully!" Val vanished, leaving the two