Clouds of Witness

by Dorothy L. Sayers

Lord Peter watched his statuesque profile against the fire; it reminded him of the severe beauty of the charioteer of Delphi and was about as communicative.

“It is like the taste of a passion that has passed its noon and turned to weariness,” he said, with sudden gravity. “The only thing to do is to recognise bravely that it is dead, and put it away.”

“You surely will,” said the Ambassador cordially, signing a note. “And they say the English can’t hustle.”