Annette stayed a powder-puff, and said with startling suddenness:

"Que tu es grossier!"

He knew the expression--he had reason to. The first time she had
used it he had thought it meant "What a grocer you are!" and had
not known whether to be relieved or not when better informed. He
resented the word--he was NOT coarse! If he was coarse, what was
that chap in the room beyond his, who made those horrible noises
in the morning when he cleared his throat, or those people in the
Lounge who thought it well-bred to say nothing but what the whole
world could hear at the top of their voices--quacking inanity!
Coarse, because he had said her dress was low! Well, so it was! He
went out without reply.

Coming into the Lounge from the far end, he at once saw Fleur
where he had left her. She sat with crossed knees, slowly
balancing a foot in silk stocking and grey shoe, sure sign that
she was dreaming. Her eyes showed it too--they went off like that
sometimes. And then, in a moment, she would come to life, and be
as quick and restless as a monkey. And she knew so much, so self-
assured, and not yet nineteen. What was that odious word? Flapper!
Dreadful young creatures--squealing and squawking and showing
their legs! The worst of them bad dreams, the best of them
powdered angels! Fleur was NOT a flapper, NOT one of those slangy,
ill-bred young females. And yet she was frighteningly self-willed,
and full of life, and determined to enjoy it. Enjoy! The word
brought no puritan terror to Soames; but it brought the terror
suited to his temperament. He had always been afraid to enjoy to-