significant pause, 'but he talks as good English as you or me. Says
he wants an "Angel Kiss" - maraschino and cream, if you please -
every night. I'll see he doesn't stop here too long.'

Miss Spencer smiled grimly in response. The notion of referring to
Theodore Racksole as a 'New Yorker' appealed to her sense of
humour, a sense in which she was not entirely deficient. She knew,
of course, and she knew that Jules knew, that this Theodore
Racksole must be the unique and only Theodore Racksole, the
third richest man in the United States, and therefore probably in
the world. Nevertheless she ranged herself at once on the side of
Jules.

Just as there was only one Racksole, so there was only one Jules,
and Miss Spencer instinctively shared the latter's indignation at the
spectacle of any person whatsoever, millionaire or Emperor,
presuming to demand an 'Angel Kiss', that unrespectable
concoction of maraschino and cream, within the precincts of the
Grand Babylon. In the world of hotels it was currently stated that,
next to the proprietor, there were three gods at the Grand Babylon
- Jules, the head waiter, Miss Spencer, and, most powerful of all,
Rocco, the renowned chef, who earned two thousand a year, and
had a chalet on the Lake of Lucerne. All the great hotels in
Northumberland Avenue and on the Thames Embankment had
tried to get Rocco away from the Grand Babylon, but without
success. Rocco was well aware that even he could rise no higher
than the maître hôtel of the Grand Babylon, which, though it never
advertised itself, and didn't belong to a limited company, stood an
easy first among the hotels of Europe - first in expensiveness, first
in exclusiveness, first in that mysterious quality known as 'style'.