Such was her surprise at being thus addressed that she put down her fork; and Smither, who was passing, promptly removed her plate. Mrs. MacAnder, however, with presence of mind, said instantly: “I must have a little more of that nice mutton.”

But afterwards in the drawing-room she sat down by Mrs. Small, determined to get to the bottom of the matter. And she began:

“What a charming woman, Mrs. Soames; such a sympathetic temperament! Soames is a really lucky man!”

Her anxiety for information had not made sufficient allowance for that inner Forsyte skin which refuses to share its troubles with outsiders.

Mrs. Septimus Small, drawing herself up with a creak and rustle of her whole person, said, shivering in her dignity:

“My dear, it is a subject we do not talk about!”

Night in the Park

Although with her infallible instinct Mrs. Small had said the very thing to make her guest “more intriguée than ever,” it is difficult to see how else she could truthfully have spoken.

It was not a subject which the Forsytes could talk about even among themselves⁠—to use the word Soames had invented to characterize to himself the situation, it was “subterranean.”