"Well," he said, "they brought me up to do nothing, and here I am
in the sere and yellow, getting poorer every day. These Labour
chaps mean to have the lot before they've done. What are you going
to do for a living when it comes? I shall work a six-hour day
teaching politicians how to see a joke. Take my tip, Soames; go
into Parliament, make sure of your four hundred--and employ me."

And, as Soames retired, he resumed his seat in the bay window.

Soames moved along Piccadilly deep in reflections excited by his
cousin's words. He himself had always been a worker and a saver,
George always a drone and a spender; and yet, if confiscation once
began, it was he--the worker and the saver--who would be looted!
That was the negation of all virtue, the overturning of all
Forsyte principles. Could civilisation be built on any other? He
did not think so. Well, they wouldn't confiscate his pictures, for
they wouldn't know their worth. But what would they be worth, if
these maniacs once began to milk capital? A drug on the market. 'I
don't care about myself,' he thought; 'I could live on five
hundred a year, and never know the difference, at my age.' But
Fleur! This fortune, so wisely invested, these treasures so
carefully chosen and amassed, were all for her. And if it should
turn out that he couldn't give or leave them to her--well, life
had no meaning, and what was the use of going in to look at this
crazy, futuristic stuff with the view of seeing whether it had any
future?

Arriving at the Gallery off Cork Street, however, he paid his
shilling, picked up a catalogue, and entered. Some ten persons