Jolyon had reached the words:"My dear,I want you to come with me,"when,glancing at her face,he perceived by her blue eyes moving from side to side--like the tail of a preoccupied cat that she was not attending."Dad,is it true that I absolutely can't get at any of my money?""Only the income,fortunately,my love."
"How perfectly beastly!Can't it be done somehow?There must be a way.I know I could buy a small Gallery for ten thousand pounds.""A small Gallery,"murmured Jolyon,"seems a modest desire.But your grandfather foresaw it.""I think,"cried June vigorously,"that all this care about money is awful,when there's so much genius in the world simply crushed out for want of a little.I shall never marry and have children;why shouldn't I be able to do some good instead of having it all tied up in case of things which will never come off?""Our name is Forsyte,my dear,"replied Jolyon in the ironical voice to which his impetuous daughter had never quite grown accustomed;"and Forsytes,you know,are people who so settle their property that their grandchildren,in case they should die before their parents,have to make wills leaving the property that will only come to themselves when their parents die.Do you follow that?Nor do I,but it's a fact,anyway;we live by the principle that so long as there is a possibility of keeping wealth in the family it must not go out;if you die unmarried,your money goes to Jolly and Holly and their children if they marry.Isn't it pleasant to know that whatever you do you can none of you be destitute?""But can't I borrow the money?"
Jolyon shook his head."You could rent a Gallery,no doubt,if you could manage it out of your income."June uttered a contemptuous sound.