“I don’t want to hear any of your beastly plans. Plans are no good. She’s gone and fallen in love with this other bloke, and now hates my gizzard.”
“Rot.”
“It isn’t rot.”
“I tell you, Tuppy, as one who can read the female heart, that this Angela loves you still.”
“Well, it didn’t look much like it in the larder last night.”
“Oh, you went to the larder last night?”
“I did.”
“And Angela was there?”
“She was. And your aunt. Also your uncle.”
I saw that I should require foot-notes. All this was new stuff to me. I had stayed at Brinkley Court quite a lot in my time, but I had no idea the larder was such a social vortex. More like a snack bar on a race-course than anything else, it seemed to have become.