How had he managed to go on so long in that town devoid of the scent of sweetpeas, where he had not even space to put his treasures?
True, those had been years with no time at all for looking at them--years of almost passionate money-making, during which Forsyte, Bustard and Forsyte had become solicitors to more limited Companies than they could properly attend to.
Up to the City of a morning in a Pullman car, down from the City of an evening in a Pullman car.

Law papers again after dinner, then the sleep of the tired, and up again next morning.

Saturday to Monday was spent at his Club in town--curious reversal of customary procedure, based on the deep and careful instinct that while working so hard he needed sea air to and from the station twice a day, and while resting must indulge his domestic affections.

The Sunday visit to his family in Park Lane, to Timothy's, and to Green Street; the occasional visits elsewhere had seemed to him as necessary to health as sea air on weekdays.

Even since his migration to Mapledurham he had maintained those habits until--he had known Annette.
Whether Annette had produced the revolution in his outlook, or that outlook had produced Annette, he knew no more than we know where a circle begins.