Leslie, as fascinated as a rabbit before a boa constrictor, said she had never met him, but heard he was very nice.
“Nice,” said Mrs. Spender emphatically, “is hardly the word, if you see what I mean. I mean a man who does such wonderful good just by his mere influence, though mind you I don’t mean like an Indian by simply sitting and thinking of nothing. And all up-to-date too. Now the vicar at home, that is where we live if you see what I mean, for though Bobbie is away the children and I living there makes it seem like home, though we miss Bobbie dreadfully, don’t we Bobbums, is really quite bigoted, I mean like the Inquisition. We had quite an argument about this Beveridge plan, though it sounds exactly like beer-rationing if you take my meaning, or even tea and cocoa, and believe me
