"Miss Meuhl," he said, "in the past couple of weeks I've sat through six light-concerts, four attempts at chamber music, and god knows how many assorted folk-art festivals. I've been tied up every off-duty hour since I got here—"
"You can't offend the Groaci," Miss Meuhl said sharply. "Consul Whaffle would never have been so rude."
"Whaffle left here three months ago," Retief said, "leaving me in charge."
"Well," Miss Meuhl said, snapping off the dictyper. "I'm sure I don't know what excuse I can give the Minister."
"Never mind the excuses," Retief said. "Just tell him I won't be there." He stood up.
"Are you leaving the office?" Miss Meuhl adjusted her glasses. "I have some important letters here for your signature."
"I don't recall dictating any letters today, Miss Meuhl," Retief said, pulling on a light cape.
"I wrote them for you. They're just as Consul Whaffle would have wanted them."
"Did you write all Whaffle's letters for him, Miss Meuhl?"