auspicious moment for the disposal of house property. And
Soames was unloading the estates of his father and uncle Roger, and to
some extent of his uncle Nicholas. His shrewd and matter-of-course
probity in all money concerns had made him something of an autocrat in
connection with these trusts. If Soames thought this or thought that,
one had better save oneself the bother of thinking too. He guaranteed,
as it were, irresponsibility to numerous Forsytes of the third and
fourth generations. His fellow trustees, such as his cousins Roger or
Nicholas, his cousins-in-law Tweetyman and Spender, or his sister
Cicely's husband all trusted him; he signed first, and where he signed
first they signed after, and nobody was a penny the worse. Just now
they were all a good many pennies the better, and Soames was beginning
to see the close of certain trusts, except for distribution of the
income from securities as gilt-edged as was compatible with the period.

Passing the more feverish parts of the City towards the most perfect
backwater in London, he ruminated. Money was extraordinarily tight; and
morality extraordinarily loose! The War had done it. Banks were not
lending; people breaking contracts all over the place. There was a
feeling in the air and a look on faces that he did not like. The
country seemed in for a spell of gambling and bankruptcies. There was
satisfaction in the thought that neither he nor his trusts had an
investment which could be affected by anything less maniacal than
national repudiation or a levy on capital. If Soames had faith, it was
in what he called "English common sense"--or the power to have things,
if not one way then another. He might--like his father James before
him--say he didn't know what things were coming to, but he never in his
heart believed they were. If it rested with him, they wouldn't--and,
after all, he was only an Englishman like any other, so quietly
tenacious of what he had that he knew he would never really part with
it without something more or less equivalent in exchange. Take his own
case, for example! He was well off. Did that do anybody harm? He did
not eat ten meals a day; he ate no more than, perhaps not so much as, a
poor man. He spent no money on vice; breathed no more air, used no more
water to speak of than the mechanic or the porter. He certainly had
pretty things about him, but they had given employment in the making,
and somebody must use them. He bought pictures, but