"I know; but that's not everything. You could easily find one if you took the trouble."
"Well, I'll see about it. But why don't you speak to Mrs. Crickett? I'm generally out before she gets here."
"Oh, yes, I know. You needn't keep on rubbing it in about your having to go out to work. You don't suppose I enjoy it, do you? Wimsey can tell you how I feel about it."
"Don't be so silly, George. Why is it, Lord Peter, that men are so cowardly about speaking to servants?"
"It's the woman's job to speak to servants," said George, "no business of mine."
"All right—I'll speak, and you'll have to put up with the consequences."
"There won't be any consequences, my dear, if you do it tactfully. I can't think why you want to make all this fuss."
"Right-oh, I'll be as tactful as I can. You don't suffer from charladies, I suppose, Lord Peter?"
"Good lord, no!" interrupted George. "Wimsey lives decently. They don't know the dignified joys of hard-upness in Piccadilly."
"I'm rather lucky," said Wimsey, with that apologetic air which seems forced on anybody accused of too much wealth. "I have an extraordinarily faithful and intelligent man who looks after me like a mother."