She greeted June with the careful effusion of which she was a mistress, a little afraid of her as far as a woman of her eminence in the commercial and Christian world could be afraid⁠—for so slight a girl June had a great dignity, the fearlessness of her eyes gave her that. And Mrs. Baynes, too, shrewdly recognized that behind the uncompromising frankness of June’s manner there was much of the Forsyte. If the girl had been merely frank and courageous, Mrs. Baynes would have thought her “cranky,” and despised her; if she had been merely a Forsyte, like Francie⁠—let us say⁠—she would have patronized her from sheer weight of metal; but June, small though she was⁠— Mrs. Baynes habitually admired quantity⁠—gave her an uneasy feeling; and she placed her in a chair opposite the light.