ABSTRACT
It had troubled me at first that I was following in the trail of so many interviewers and critics who had gone to find the “real” Noël Coward and failed to return with the goodies. What irritation it had caused them! All that nagging away, only to receive a pretty box of witticisms wrapped in tinsel. What a defeat! Wit is a great asset, of course, and an even greater camouflage. Yet is it possible that beneath Coward’s witty and urbane exterior can be found a witty and urbane interior? I was soon to find out.
