Sybil leafed through a small pile of pastel envelopes that had been inserted into her breakfast tray. “Well, the news has got around,” she said. “The Duchess of Keepsake has invited us to a ball, Sir Henry and Lady Withering have invited us to a ball, and Lord and Lady Hangfinger have invited us to, yes, a ball!” “Well,” said Vimes, “that’s a lot of—” “Don’t you dare, Sam!” his wife warned and Vimes finished lamely, “ . . .invitations?
