"You could put the kettle on and find some food if you liked to be really helpful. I just want to finish up this figure."
"That's fine. I took the liberty of bringing a pot of Hybla honey with me."
"What sweet ideas you have! I really think you are one of the nicest people I know. You don't talk rubbish about art, and you don't want your hand held, and your mind always turns on eating and drinking."
"Don't speak too soon. I don't want my hand held, but I did come here with an object."
"Very sensible of you. Most people come without any."
"And stay interminably."
"They do."
Miss Phelps cocked her head on one side and looked critically at the little dancing lady she was modeling. She had made a line of her own in pottery figurines, which sold well and were worth the money.
"That's rather attractive," said Wimsey.
"Rather pretty-pretty. But it's a special order, and one can't afford to be particular. I've done a Christmas present for you, by the way. You'd better have a look at it, and if you think it offensive we'll smash it together. It's in that cupboard."