unearths some literary gems.
From Weekend at Thrackley, by Alan Melville:
"It's this here government with their tariffs and their duties and their whatnots."
"Mr. Henderson thought for a moment of asking for further particulars of a government's whatnots."
"And that horse you gave me for the three o'clock yesterday was last by a quarter of a furlong.[...] Thank heaven I don't know how long a furlong is--that's some consolation."
The usual collection of bedside books (the New Testament, Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, Little Lord Fauntleroy, and an annotated autobiography of Archimedes) were conspicuous by their absence.
Lady Stone perspired freely, a thing she had not done since the Henley Regatta of 1897.
"Somewhere on each piece of my jewellery, there is a monogram...a little R...so very little, perhaps only I could see it."
"Old man Carson seems to have all the equipment for putting little Rs on your knick-knacks," said Freddie Usher.
Raoul smiled at him as though Mr. Usher were a particularly distressing painting which she had been asked by the painter to admire.
"Well?" said Lady Stone, somewhat irritated at being sidetracked by this dancer person and her little Rs.
Lady Stone stared at Mr. Usher as though Hamlet's ghost had suddenly appeared in front of her in bright mauve pyjamas.