He hated Lord Francis, set himself up against him, as of old he had set himself up against Billy Goodge.

He was a better man than Frank Ayres.

Frank Ayres was only a popinjay.

Beneath the tails of his coat he snapped his fingers at Frank Ayres, while he listened, with his own agreeable smile, to Mademoiselle de Cressy's devilled gossip.
He was very frigid and courtly when he bade the Princess good night at the door of her limousine.
"Ah, que vous etes bete!" she laughed.
He went to bed very angry.

She had told him to his face that he was a silly fool.