“I liked Val,” Holly answered, staring at the ground before her; “his uncle looked⁠—awfully different.” She stole a glance at Jolly from under her lashes.

“Did you ever,” said Jolyon with whimsical intention, “hear our family history, my dears? It’s quite a fairy tale. The first Jolyon Forsyte⁠—at all events the first we know anything of, and that would be your great-great-grandfather⁠—dwelt in the land of Dorset on the edge of the sea, being by profession an ‘agriculturalist,’ as your great-aunt put it, and the son of an agriculturist⁠—farmers, in fact; your grandfather used to call them, ‘Very small beer.’ ” He looked at Jolly to see how his lordliness was standing it, and with the other eye noted Holly’s malicious pleasure in the slight drop of her brother’s face.