e crossed the corridor, with its gloomy,
yellow-ochre walls, and its infinite vista of brown, numbered doors.
The lift was going down; and wrapped to the ears in the high cloak, with
every one of her auburn hairs in its place, she waited motionless for
it to stop at her floor. The iron gates clanked open; she entered. There
were already three occupants, a man in a great white waistcoat, with
a large, smooth face like a baby's, and two old ladies in black, with
mittened hands.

Mrs. MacAnder smiled at them; she knew everybody; and all these three,
who had been admirably silent before, began to talk at once. This was
Mrs. MacAnder's successful secret. She provoked conversation.

Throughout a descent of five stories the conversation continued, the
lift boy standing with his back turned, his cynical face protruding
through the bars.

At the bottom they separated, the man in the white waistcoat
sentimentally to the billiard room, the old ladies to dine and say to
each other: "A dear little woman!" "Such a rattle!" and Mrs. MacAnder to
her cab.

When Mrs. MacAnder dined at Timothy's, the conversation (although
Timothy himself could never be induced to be present) took that wider,
man-of-the-world tone current among Forsytes at large, and this, no
doubt, was what put her at a premium there.

Mrs. Small and Aunt Hester found it an exhilarating change. "If only,"
they said, "Timothy would meet her!" It was felt that she would do him
good. She could tell you, for instance, the latest story of Sir Charles
Fiste's son at Monte Carlo; who was the real heroine of Tynemouth Eddy's
fashionable novel that everyone was holding up their hands over,
and what they were doing in Paris about wearing bloomers. She was so
sensible, too, knowing all about that vexed question, whether to send
young Nicholas' eldest into the navy as his mother wished, or make
him an accountant as his father thought would be safer. She strongly
deprecated the navy. If you were not exceptionally brilliant or
exceptionally well connected, they passed you over so disgracefully,
and what was it after all to look forward to, even if you became an
admiral--a pittance! An accountant had many more chances, but let him be
put with a good firm, where there was no risk at starting!

Sometimes she would give them a tip on the Stock Exchange; not that Mrs.
Small or Aunt Hester ever took it. They had indeed no money to invest;
but it seemed to bring them into such excitin