Both these Forsytes, wide asunder as the poles in many respects, possessed in their different ways⁠—to a greater degree than the rest of the family⁠—that essential quality of tenacious and prudent insight into “affairs,” which is the high-water mark of their great class. Either of them, with a little luck and opportunity, was equal to a lofty career; either of them would have made a good financier, a great contractor, a statesman, though old Jolyon, in certain of his moods when under the influence of a cigar or of Nature⁠—would have been capable of, not perhaps despising, but certainly of questioning, his own high position, while Soames, who never smoked cigars, would not.

Then, too, in old Jolyon’s mind there was always the secret ache, that the son of James⁠—of James, whom he had always thought such a poor thing, should be pursuing the paths of success, while his own son⁠—!

And last, not least⁠—for he was no more outside the radiation of family gossip than any other Forsyte⁠—he had now heard the sinister, indefinite, but none the less disturbing rumour about Bosinney, and his pride was wounded to the quick.