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Updated: May 4, 2025
He would ask her to come to dinner with him in some little Italian or semi-Bohemian restaurant in the district toward Soho, or in one of the more stylish and magnificent establishments about Piccadilly Circus, and for the most part she did not care to refuse. Nor, indeed, did she want to refuse.
I think the great advantage of the semi-Bohemian set to which she belongs, is that among them there is neither Jew nor Greek, neither bond nor free, for all are one in our common human nature. Were I to go down into the kitchen and cook the dinner, it would not put me at any disadvantage with my good friend.
Certainly it was altogether alien to Nan's ultra-modern, semi-Bohemian notions. "Suppose you come to lunch to-morrow? I should like you to meet her as soon as possible." There was something just the least bit didactic in the latter part of the sentence, a hint of the proprietary note. Nan recoiled from it instinctively. "No, not to-morrow," she exclaimed hastily.
His manner changed as he looked me straight in the face. Unlike his usual careless self for his was a curious character of the semi-Bohemian order and Savage Club type he grew serious and thoughtful, regarding me with critical gaze after removing his pipe from his lips. "Well," he exclaimed at last. "I'll tell you what it is, Boyd.
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