To Let

upon his n

e's-Val

se he had taken on the north side of the Sussex Downs. His destination was Newmarket, and he had not been there since the autumn of 1899, wh

ur leg, Val, and d

ling of sacrifice or boredom-she was so quick, so slyly always a little in front of his mood. Being first cousins they had decided, or rather Holly had, to have no children; and, though a little sallower, she had kept her looks, her slimness, and the colour of her dark hair. Val particularly admired the life of her own she carried on, besides carrying on his, and riding better every year. She kept up her music, she read an awful lot-novels, poetry, all

and handicapped by the leg which, weakened in the Boer War, had probably saved his life in the war just past, Val was still much as he had been in the days of his courtship; his smile as wide and charming, his eyelashes, if anyt

sharp round at

young Jon

-da

ant for him? I could bri

ome by the same trai

a man in a new country on bad roads, who refuse

ows her way about," he said.

said

d your dad-bit a

, and nothing must be said, of cou

, it was. Glancing slyly round at him, she said:

N

What do you th

ht run out at any corner if she

er she is the modern young woman. One f

the hang of th

r hand into h

al, encouraged. "What do you think

s rather 'a

grin

ly is in pretty queer waters, with Uncle Soames marrying a Frenchwoman, an

anybody's,

t get her hind legs under her up-hill. I shall have to gi

sing with a car, and the running of the Ford under his guidance, compared wit

e'll throw you down if sh

led Holly, and

e Dartie hankering for a flutter. On getting back to England, after the profitable sale of his South African farm and stud, and observing that the sun seldom shone, Val had said to himself: "I've absolutely got to have an interest in life, or this country will give me the blues. Hunting's not enough, I'll breed and I'll train." With just that extra pinch of shrewdness and decision imparted by long residenc

g him of the dandyism in which he had been bred, had left him the essential neatness of the horseman, and given him a queer and rather blighting eye over what he called "the silly haw-haw" of some Englishmen, the 'flapping cockatoory' of some Eng

's well, I hope." And he saw beside him the

at lunch," added the voice.

devil" Holly had called him. Well! He looked a little like a devil, with his dark, clipped, p

s to know you-cousin of

g, with sardonic humour bubbling behind a full grey eye; he remembered it

s," George was saying. "How's the s

eding. They believed in nothing over here, not even in horses. George Forsyte

a racing man," he sa

her, but I like to see my friends. I've got some lunch, Mr. Val Dartie, just a

od of you. I'll come along i

ow-gloved finger; "small car, with a small lunch"; he moved on, groomed, sleep

, but this Profond might be about his own age; Val felt extremely young, as if the

r the voice of Monsieur Profond-"wha

The Mayfly strain-was it any better than any other? He

no good breeding horses, it's no good doing

s, trainers looking as if they had never been guilty of seeing a horse in their lives; tall, flapping, languid women, or

in bell rings, horses run, money changes hand

She moved well; and he made his way over to the "small" car. The "small" lunch was the sort a man dre

e woman," was his

I know," retur

fond; "she has a nice fa

g kindly and direct in the heavy diabolism o

ome on my yacht, I'll g

, in arms again, "

said Monsie

y do you

I don' know. I've done everythin

sive. I should want m

aised his eyebrows, and pu

y-goin' man

n the war?"

t from his name. Whether his saying "small" when he ought to have said "little" was genuine mistake or affectation, Val could not decide; the fello

r tied up for Holly by HER grand-father, Val was not flush of capital that he could touch, having spent most of what he had realised from his South African farm on his establishment in Sussex. And very soon he was thinking: 'Dash it! she's

ly, but I don't want her; you tak

icion, but the good humour in his eyes was

to that look. "I 'ad armament shares. I like to give it away. I'm always

he price you gave," said

Profond. "You take h

t! One

ieur Profond. "I'm a f

uineas is not a box of cig

or me till I want her, and

don't mind that." "That's all right," m

then again he might not. He saw him rejoin Ge

ter racing at his mother

fourth incident might have secured her a partner of less dazzling inebriety; though, after all, he had left her Val, Imogen, Maud, Benedict (almost a colonel and unharmed by the war)-none of whom had been divorced as yet. The steadiness of her children often amazed one who remembered their father; but, as she was fond of believing, they were really all Forsytes, favouring herself, with the exception perhaps of Imogen. Her brother's "little girl" Fleur frankly puzzled Winifred. The child was as restless as any of these modern young women-"She's a small flame in a draught," Prosper Profond had said one day after dinner-but she did not flop, or talk at the top of her voice. The steady Forsy

eakfast on Saturday morning, Wini

ld as the hills, of course, Fleur need know nothing about it-making a fus

g half-brother is coming to live with us w

d. "That is a gaff

re home in 1909; he was naked and painted bl

le; she'll know how to deal with it. I shan't tell your uncle. It'll only bother

as ever. By the way, that chap P

Oh! the most amu

counted the story o

urmured Winifred. "He d

aven't been too lucky with that kind of

s blue study lasted a full

reigner, Val; one mu

his filly and make it

ceived a kiss, and left her for his bookmak