At first Holly had spoken of her sometimes, but 'ladies in grey' soon fade from children's memories; and the tightening of June's lips in those first weeks after her grandfather's death whenever her former friend's name was mentioned, had discouraged allusion.

Only once, indeed, had June spoken definitely: "I've forgiven her.

I'm frightfully glad she's independent now...." On receiving Soames' card, Jolyon said to the maid--for he could not abide butlers--"Show him into the study, please, and say I'll be there in a minute"; and then he looked at Holly and asked: "Do you remember 'the lady in grey,' who used to give you music-lessons ?" "Oh yes, why?
Has she come ?" Jolyon shook his head, and, changing his holland blouse for a coat, was silent, perceiving suddenly that such history was not for those young ears.

His face, in fact, became whimsical perplexity incarnate while he journeyed towards the study.
Standing by the french-window, looking out across the terrace at the oak tree, were two figures, middle-aged and young, and he thought: 'Who's that boy?
Surely they never had a child.' The elder figure turned.

The meeting of those two Forsytes of the second generation, so much more sophisticated than the first, in the house built for the one and owned and occupied by the other, was marked by subtle defensiveness beneath distinct attempt at cordiality.