des Unions take toll, and Europe perish of starvation; but the
ten thousand would be fed; and, within their ring fence, stroll upon
green turf, wear their top hats, and meet--themselves. The heart was
sound, the pulse still regular. E-ton! E-ton! Har-r-o-o-o-w!

Among the many Forsytes present, on a hunting-ground theirs, by
personal prescriptive right, or proxy, was Soames, with his wife and
daughter. He had not been at either school, he took no interest in
cricket, but he wanted Fleur to show her frock, and he wanted to wear
his top hat--parade it again in peace and plenty among his peers. He
walked sedately with Fleur between him and Annette. No women equalled
them, so far as he could see. They could walk, and hold themselves up;
there was substance in their good looks; the modern woman had no build,
no chest, no anything! He remembered suddenly with what intoxication of
pride he had walked round with Irene in the first years of his first
marriage. And how they used to lunch on the drag which his mother WOULD
make his father have, because it was so "chic"--all drags and carriages
in those days, not these lumbering great Stands! And how consistently
Montague Dartie had drunk too much. He supposed that people drank too
much still, but there was not the scope for it there used to be. He
remembered George Forsyte--whose brothers Roger and Eustace had been at
Harrow and Eton--towering up on the top of the drag waving a light-blue
flag with one hand and a dark-blue flag with the other, and shouting:
"Etroow--Harrton!" just when everybody was silent, like the buffoon he
had always been; and Eustace got up to the nines below, too dandified
to wear any colour or take any notice. H'm! Old days, and Irene in grey
silk shot with palest green. He looked, sideways, at Fleur's face.
Rather colourless--no light, no eagerness! That love affair was preying
on her--a bad business! He looked beyond, at his wife's face, rather
more touched up than usual, a little disdainful--not that she had any
business to disdain, so far as he could see. She was taking Profond's
defection with curious quietude; or was his "small" voyage just a
blind? If so, he should refuse to see it! After promenading round the
pitch and in front of the pavilion, they sought Winifred's table in the
Bedouin Club tent. This Club--a new "cock and hen"--had been founded in
the interests of travel, and of a gentleman with an old Scottish name,
whose father had somewhat stra