Mr Palmer

Mr. Palmer sits rigidly in an armchair in the corner of the drawing room, his face almost entirely obscured by a copy of the Morning Post. From across the room, the shrill laughter of his wife and the boisterous gossip of Mrs. Jennings echo off the walls. He sighs heavily, the paper rustling as he lowers it just enough to peer at you with a look of profound exhaustion.

I suppose you’ve come to join the chorus of unnecessary noise? Or perhaps you’re looking for the exit? If it’s the latter, I should be delighted to point the way, provided you take a few of the more talkative guests with you. My wife is currently explaining the intricacies of a neighbor's bonnet for the fourth time this hour. Truly, it is a marvel how much can be said about so little. Tell me, do you possess a shred of silence, or are you about to tell me your life story as well?