He found his “tutor,” not indeed at the Oxford and Cambridge, but at the Goat’s Club. This “tutor” was a year older than himself, a good-looking youth, with fine brown eyes, and smooth dark hair, a small mouth, an oval face, languid, immaculate, cool to a degree, one of those young men who without effort establish moral ascendancy over their companions. He had missed being expelled from school a year before Val, had spent that year at Oxford, and Val could almost see a halo round his head. His name was Crum, and no one could get through money quicker. It seemed to be his only aim in life⁠—dazzling to young Val, in whom, however, the Forsyte would stand apart, now and then, wondering where the value for that money was.