From Weekend at Thrackley, by Alan Melville:

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"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."

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"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."

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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.

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"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.