This lady knew all the Forsytes, and having been at June's 'at home,'
was not at a loss to see with whom she had to deal. Her own marriage,
poor thing, had not been successful, but having had the good sense and
ability to force her husband into pronounced error, she herself had
passed through the necessary divorce proceedings without incurring
censure.
She was therefore a judge of all that sort of thing, and lived in one of
those large buildings, where in small sets of apartments, are gathered
incredible quantities of Forsytes, whose chief recreation out of
business hours is the discussion of each other's affairs.
Poor little woman, perhaps she was thirsty, certainly she was bored, for
Flippard was a wit. To see 'those two' in so unlikely a spot was quite a
merciful 'pick-me-up.'
At the MacAnder, like all London, Time pauses.
This small but remarkable woman merits attention; her all-seeing eye
and shrewd tongue were inscrutably the means of furthering the ends of
Providence.
With an air of being in at the death, she had an almost distressing
power of taking care of herself. She had done more, perhaps, in her way
than any woman about town to destroy the sense of chivalry which
still clogs the wheel of civilization.
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