Gerald smiled grimly at this humorism. Then he made a little gesture of dismissal, with his eyebrows.
“You don’t believe in having any standard of behaviour at all, do you?” he challenged Birkin, censoriously.
“Standard—no. I hate standards. But they’re necessary for the common ruck. Anybody who is anything can just be himself and do as he likes.”
“But what do you mean by being himself?” said Gerald. “Is that an aphorism or a cliché?”
“I mean just doing what you want to do. I think it was perfect good form in Laura to bolt from Lupton to the church door. It was almost a masterpiece in good form. It’s the hardest thing in the world to act spontaneously on one’s impulses—and it’s the only really gentlemanly thing to do—provided you’re fit to do it.”
“You don’t expect me to take you seriously, do you?”