Here's my niece drives a taxicab and is proud of it, my own daughter designs underclothes and sells them at a shop in Sloane Street to any one who comes along, and my boy, who ought to go into the Guards, prefers to go into Roger Kendrick's office.

What are you going to start him at, Roger ?" "A pound a week and his lunch money, probably," Kendrick replied.
"I don't think he'll earn it," his fond mother said sadly.

"However, that's your business.

Don't forget you're dining with me Sunday night, John.

I'll ask Josephine, too, if you succeed in making friends with her.