I am torn. The mystery was meh, but you don't really read Dorothy L. Sayers for the mysteries. You read because Peter and Harriet are the greatest: they are both crazy smart, constantly tossing out obscure literary references like it's NBD, and committed to JUSTICE. They are one of my most favorite bookish couples, but this goes to show that, while I do love (and demand) a little romance, I can only bear it in very small, restrained doses. Instead of witty banter exchanged in the midst of clue-searching, we are exposed to besotted Peter and Harriet talking about their utter and complete happiness, quoting poetry to one another to express their most ardent feelings, and (horrors) Harriet essentially taking a back seat because she doesn't want to get in the way. She throws out a few ideas regarding the mystery, but spends most of her time worrying about Peter. Boo, Harriet!