From Mr. Pinkerton at the Old Angel, by David Frome:

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"Pamela Gwendoylyn Watkins, dau. of Sir Wathen Watkins Watkins."

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[I didn't know (though Hilary did) that Rye's crooked chimney, as replicated in Tilling, really exists! However, you'll note that the claim below runs directly contrary to Benson's premise. The present book was published in 1939, whereas Benson, I see, was giving his version ("The expert artist would draw it rather more crooked than it really was...") at least as early as 1922.]

The little man stopped short by the house with the crooked chimney that everybody who paints comes to Rye to paint, they say because it is impossible to get the chimney any crookeder than it already is.

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[Pathetic Fallacy dept., Seat-of-Trousers div.]

He shot out into the room on the surprised seat of his trousers with something of a crash.

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["Throat" Is Too Vague dept.]

He stood there in the dark, his heart precisely where his epiglottis normally was.

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[I never realized that a devil's advocate has to look right!]

He realized that as Devil's Advocate he cut a rather sorry figure, sitting up against the cold head of his bed, the covers drawn up to his chin.

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Catching the image of himself in the mirror over the mantelpiece, he felt sure for the first time of the precise appearance of a whited sepulchre.

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Mr. Pinkerton took an enormous breath of relief, or rather a breath of enormous relief.
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