“Nigel is like all men,” Lady Lescelles continued. ” So they went this time to the Rococo, in Germain Street, and up-stairs to a landing upon which stood a bald-headed waiter with whiskers like a French admiral and discretion beyond all limits in his manner. He was human. He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face. ’ ‘Oh yes, yes. ’ ‘I am a very English man,’ Gerald said. “You see,” said Ann Veronica, staring before her at the window-sash, “that’s the form my question takes at the present time. I cannot go on.
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