Ought he to go?None of 'the best,'so far as he knew--and he was in correspondence with several--were thinking of joining.If they had been making a move he would have gone at once--very compet-itive,and with a strong sense of form,he could not bear to be left behind in anything--but to do it off his own bat might look like 'swagger';because of course it wasn't really necessary.
Besides,he did not want to go,for the other side of this young Forsyte recoiled from leaping before he looked.It was altogether mixed pickles within him,hot and sickly pickles,and he became quite unlike his serene and rather lordly self.
And then one day he saw that which moved him to uneasy wrath--two riders,in a glade of the Park close to the Ham Gate,of whom she on the left-hand was most assuredly Holly on her silver roan,and he on the right-hand as assuredly that 'squirt'Val Dartie.His first impulse was to urge on his own horse and demand the meaning of this portent,tell the fellow to 'bunk,'and take Holly home.