Gradman grated: "Rather extreme at your age, sir; you lose control."
"That's my business," said Soames sharply.
Gradman wrote on a piece of paper. "Life-interest—anticipation—divert interest—absolute discretion..." and said:
"What trustees? There's young Mr. Kingson, he's a nice steady young fellow."
"Yes, he might do for one. I must have three. There isn't a Forsyte now who appeals to me."
"Not young Mr. Nicholas? He's at the Bar. We've given 'im briefs."
"He'll never set the Thames on fire," said Soames.
A smile oozed out on Gradman's face, greasy with countless mutton-chops, the smile of a man who sits all day.
"You can't expect it, at his age, Mr. Soames."
"Why? What is he? Forty?"