I can remember one morning around this time bringing Lord Darlington coffee in the breakfast room, and his saying to me as he folded The Times with some disgust: ‘Frenchmen. Really, I mean to say, Stevens. Frenchmen.’ ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘And to think we have to be seen by the world to be arm in arm with them. One wishes for a good bath at the mere reminder.’ ‘Yes, sir.’
