There is no real culture without restraint, you know.
That's where the English are so superior, don't you think?
I met the loveliest Englishman the other evening. The moment I saw him I said to myself he was one of the aristocracy. Other people have noses like theirs, of course, but it is only the English aristocracy who can carry that kind of a nose.
And my intuition was correct—there are only five lives between him and a title, and one of those is a polo player and another is at the front.
Someone told me his family were paying him not to go home, but what they think the poor man would do if he were in England I don't know, because they don't duel there, you know. If they duelled there, of course, he might dispose of all five lives.
Don't you think those old European families are so, so—well, so romantic, somehow?
