His mother would hear he had been there, of course, and might think it funny; but he couldn't help that.

He rang the bell.
"Hullo, Warmson, any dinner for me, d'you think ?" "They're just going in, Master Val.

Mr.Forsyte will be very glad to see you.

He was saying at lunch that he never saw you nowadays." Val grinned.
"Well, here I am.

Kill the fatted calf, Warmson, let's have fizz." Warmson smiled faintly--in his opinion Val was a young limb.
"I will ask Mrs.Forsyte, Master Val." "I say," Val grumbled, taking off his overcoat, "I'm not at school any more, you know." Warmson, not without a sense of humour, opened the door beyond the stag's-horn coat stand, with the words: "Mr.Valerus, ma'am." "Confound him!" thought Val, entering.
A warm embrace, a "Well, Val!" from Emily, and a rather quavery "So there you are at last!" from James, restored his sense of dignity.
"Why didn't you let us know?
There's only saddle of mutton.