"That doesn't sound very exciting."
"Ah, but wait a bit."
"Well, get a move on. I've got to see the cook."
"He sends me," I said, "a notice which has been served upon him about his cottage at Smoltham. He wants to have my opinion about it."
"Very well, give him your opinion, and let's get on with the War."
"Francesca," I said, "are you not more than a little peevish this morning?"
"I have no patience," she said, "with notices that have to be served. It's always done by sanitary inspectors and rate collectors, and people of that sort. Why can't they just post them and have done with it?"
"Who are you," I said, "that you should fly in the face of Providence in this way? Can't you see that if a notice is 'served,' it immediately becomes twice as important?"
"Oh, if it adds to the dignity of an inspector, well and good; but for my part I should have posted it."
"You are not a sanitary inspector, and cannot realise the feelings of one."