snipped bread pellet:

"D'you remember, in Frazer, the tribe that buries the bride up to the
waist?"

He spoke as fast as anybody! He had dark, lively little eyes, too, all
crinkled round like a Catholic priest's. Winifred felt suddenly he
might say things she would regret.

"They're always so diverting--weddings," she murmured, and moved on to
Soames. He was curiously still, and Winifred saw at once what was
dictating his immobility. To his right was George Forsyte, to his left
Annette and Prosper Profond. He could not move without either seeing
those two together, or the reflection of them in George Forsyte's
japing eyes. He was quite right not to be taking notice.

"They say Timothy's sinking," he said glumly.

"Where will you put him, Soames?"

"Highgate." And counted on his fingers. "It'll make twelve of them
there, including wives. How do you think Fleur looks?"

"Remarkably well."

Soames nodded. He had never seen her look prettier, yet he could not
rid himself of the impression that this business was
unnatural--remembering still that crushed figure burrowing into the
corner of the sofa. From that night to this day he had received from
her no confidences. He knew from his chauffeur that she had made one
more attempt on Robin Hill and drawn blank--an empty house, no one at
home. He knew that she had received a letter, but not what was in it,
except that it had made her hide herself and cry. He had remarked that
she looked at him sometimes when she thought he wasn't noticing, as if
she were wondering still what he had done--forsooth--to make those
people hate him so. Well, there it was! Annette had come back, and
things had worn on through the summer--very miserable, till suddenly
Fleur had said she was going to marry young Mont. She had shown him a
little more affection when she told Soames that. And he had
yielded--what was the good of opposing it? God knew that he had never
wished to thwart her in anything! And the young man seemed quite
delirious about her. No doubt she was in a reckless mood, and she was
young, absurdly young. But if he opposed her, he didn't know what she
would do; for all he could tell she might want to take up a profession,
become a doctor or solicitor, some nonsense. She had no aptitude for
painting, writing, music, in his view the legitimate occupations of
unmarried women, if they must do something in these days. On the whole,
she was safer married, for he could see too well ho