” 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. And she buried herself beneath the straw, which she tossed above her head with the wildest gestures. “Oh no, you’re breaking up with me, aren’t you?” “No Julian. It will do its best to overlook things—” “If we let it, poor dear. “It is against my husband’s orders, and I am not sure that my sister will be particularly glad to see me. I love you—unendurably.
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