34. Difficult
Soup in hand I waited patiently for Mr. Wooster to finish his latest detective novel. He claimed to have just a few pages remaining and – against all acceptable social customs – had insisted on bringing it to the table. He finally lowered the volume, a rather curdled look on his face.
"Was the ending unsatisfactory sir?" I questioned, handing him the bisque.
He began eyeing me in an extraordinarily exaggerated manner. Had I not known better, I would have said he'd been in the spirits.
"… Sir?"
"It was the valet…" His gaze grew suspicious.
Sometimes, it is simply too much.
