"Taking his nap. Tell me the truth, Clay. The absolute truth."
Clay looked at me suspiciously. "I'd planned on a little golf this afternoon."
"This won't take a minute. I don't ask you things like this all the time, now do I?"
"I still don't know what you're talking about."
I took a deep breath. "Clay, is there anything about me, anything at all, that is not respectable?"
"There is not," he said.
"Well—I guess that's all there is to it," I sighed. I pulled off my boudoir slip and got a neat paper one out of the slot. "Anyway," I said bravely, "boudoir slips have to be laundered."
Clay looked at me curiously for a moment and then said, "This looks like a good afternoon to go play golf."
"Do you think there's anything not respectable about Regina Crowley?"
"There is everything not respectable about Regina Crowley," Clay said vehemently.