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Updated: May 26, 2025
"You forget," he said with a queer pride, "I can hold on, too I'm a Forsyte myself. We're all in the path of great forces. The man who leaves the shelter of the wall well you know what I mean. I don't," he ended very low, as though uttering a threat, "recommend every man to-go-my-way. It depends." The colour rushed into Bosinney's face, but soon receded, leaving it sallow-brown as before.
Another portrait we have from the Chelsea philosopher and scorner of shams which describes the poet very humanly as "one of the finest-looking men in the world, with a great shock of rough, dusky, dark hair; bright, laughing, hazel eyes; massive, aquiline face, most massive, yet most delicate; of sallow-brown complexion, almost Indian looking; clothes cynically loose, free-and-easy; smokes infinite tobacco.
Clothes, extremely well cut; riding breeches and boots; soft shirt and falling collar with a silk tie of dull flame colour knotted at the sinewy throat, loose coat, Panama hat. So much for the figure. The face ugly, but distinguished, sallow-brown in colouring. Nose long, fine, with a slight twist below the bridge; cheeks and chin clean-shaven, an enormous dark moustache concealing the mouth.
"You forget," he said with a queer pride, "I can hold on, too I'm a Forsyte myself. We're all in the path of great forces. The man who leaves the shelter of the wall well you know what I mean. I don't," he ended very low, as though uttering a threat, "recommend every man to-go-my-way. It depends." The colour rushed into Bosinney's face, but soon receded, leaving it sallow-brown as before.
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