"I will grant you a sprinkling of fairly harmless types, who probably feel that if Lady Nest knows Mrs. Haddington she must be all right -"
"You don't suppose that Colonel Cartmel or Sir Roderick Vickerstown would be influenced by that, do you?"
"No, my love, I don't. It is well-known that both these aged crocodiles will lend the cachet of their presence to almost any house where the food and the wines are firstclass. Does your respected employer buy exclusively on the black market?"
"If I knew I shouldn't tell you. After all, she does employ me!"
"So she does. What, by the way, is your precise status in the house? Yes, I know she calls you her secretary, but you appear to me to spend half your time chasing round London with a shopping-list."
"Well, I do do her secretarial work, only, of course, there isn't a great deal of it, so I shop for her as well, and see that things are all right when she gives a party, and - oh, anything that crops up!"
"And what," enquired Mr. Harte politely, "are your hours?"
"I don't have regular hours. I'm supposed to leave at six but Mrs. Haddington likes me to be on tap."
"Does she, indeed? You must be pulling down a colossal screw!"
Beulah gave a rather bitter little laugh. "Unfortunately I don't belong to a Union! I get three pounds ten a week - and quite a number of meals. If another female is wanted, with the family; if not, on a tray in the library. Which I prefer!"