On the other occasion he merely asked: "How am I looking? A bit puffy
about the gills? That fizz old George is so fond of is a windy wine!"

He had been lunching with George Forsyte at the Haversnake.

Bosinney and Irene had arrived before them. They were standing in one of
the long French windows overlooking the river.

Windows that summer were open all day long, and all night too, and day
and night the scents of flowers and trees came in, the hot scent of
parching grass, and the cool scent of the heavy dews.

To the eye of the observant Dartie his two guests did not appear to
be making much running, standing there close together, without a word.
Bosinney was a hungry-looking creature--not much go about him.

He left them to Winifred, however, and busied himself to order the
dinner.

A Forsyte will require good, if not delicate feeding, but a Dartie will
tax the resources of a Crown and Sceptre. Living as he does, from hand
to mouth, nothing is too good for him to eat; and he will eat it. His
drink, too, will need to be carefully provided; there is much drink
in this country 'not good enough' for a Dartie; he will have the best.
Paying for things vicariously, there is no reason why he should stint
himself. To stint yourself is the mark of a fool, not of a Dartie.

The best of everything! No sounder principle on which a man can base
his life, whose father-in-law has a very considerable income, and a
partiality for his grandchildren.