So he knew that she would, embarrassingly, call Edwin to check up on him, but he didn't really care.
The real problem was the all-weather suit.
Charles put his small corps of assistants on the project, investigating several lines of thought at once. Every day, someone would drop around for a while to check on his progress, and he had no delusions about what would happen if he failed. The entire economic stability of his society depended on his coming up with an all-weather suit, and he began to have trouble sleeping nights.
Eventually, he found what looked like a workable solution.
He called Edwin to tell him about it, and Edwin came down to the lab to see for himself.
"Is this it?" he asked, picking up what looked like a burlap handkerchief.
Charles cleared his throat. "Well, that's the first sample, sir. Of course, it's possible to obtain a finer weave once we find out a few things about it, and when it's bleached...."
Edwin nodded impatiently. "Yes, yes. Well, what's so special about it?"
"Well, it's made of a radically new type of fiber, sir...."
"How's it new?"