The Razor's Edge

by W. Somerset Maugham

“You make me tired. D’you think I sacrificed myself to let Larry fall into the hands of a raging nymphomaniac?” “How did you sacrifice yourself?” “I gave Larry up for the one and only reason that I didn’t want to stand in his way.” “Come off it, Isabel. You gave him up for a square-cut diamond and a sable coat.” The words were hardly out of my mouth when a plate of bread and butter came flying at my head. By sheer luck I caught the plate, but the bread and butter was scattered on the floor. I got up and put the plate back on the table. “Your uncle Elliott wouldn’t have thanked you if you’d broken one of his Crown Derby plates. They were made for the third Duke of Dorset and they’re almost priceless.” “Pick up the bread and butter,” she snapped. “Pick it up yourself,” I said, seating myself again on the sofa. She got up and, fuming, picked up the scattered pieces. “And you call yourself an English gentleman,” she exclaimed, savagely. “No, that’s a thing I’ve never done in all my life.”