"Beatrice says she pretends to be full of sex and other dreadful natural things—you always had fruity tastes, Beatrice avers!"
"My tastes are fruity, but are never gratified in these modern days, alas! She is quite wrong about Läo, though; she is as cold as ice. She smiles with equal sweetness upon the waiters when we are lunching at restaurants. She is merely a lovely woman demanding incense from all things male.
"Beatrice said 'pretends,' remember—Beatrice is not at all dense!"
"No, quite a subtle companion when not composing odes, or discussing the intensity of blue with Hebe Vermont."
"—Are you glad Läo is coming for Christmas?"
"Y—es. I shall want some of your very best champagne."
"You shall have it, G., and I will try to make things difficult for you as a sort of appetiser. I have some kind of feeling that you are depressed, dear boy?—I am putting Läo in the parrot suite."
"It will suit her admirably."
Then they both laughed.