Gaudy Night (Lord Peter Wimsey, #12)

by Dorothy L. Sayers

“I’m quite prepared to admit that,” said Harriet. “A ploughshare is a nobler object than a razor. But if your natural talent is for barbering, wouldn’t it be better to be a barber, and a good barber—and use the profits (if you like) to speed the plough? However grand the job may be, is it your job?”

“That’s all very well,” replied Mrs. Bendick. “But one’s rather apt to marry into somebody else’s job.”

“The trouble is,” said the Librarian, “that everybody sneers at restrictions and demands freedom, till something annoying happens; then they demand angrily what has become of the discipline.”

“Peter,” said Harriet. And with the sound of her own voice she came drowsing and floating up out of the strong circle of his arms, through a green sea of sun-dappled beech leaves into darkness.