unearths some literary gems.
***
“You heard those tunes of mine?” said Inigo, wheeling round excitedly. “I have a phrase describing ’em, thought of it the other day. They’re like a family of elves in dress suits. How’s that?”
“Not bad,” said Fauntley, “but I’d rather have the tunes.”
***
“I commend your soul to the Eternal Verities, Felton, though I haven’t the least notion what they are.”
***
“I’ve seen some changes i’ my time. You take textile trade nar—”
But Mr. Poppleby wasn’t taking it. “That is so.”
***
Miss Trant was now positive that the little man, the very uneasy little man, was Mr. Eric Tipstead. To begin with, he looked exactly like a Mr. Eric Tipstead.
***
Miss Trant said nothing because there did not seem to be anything suitable to say. One of those vague little sympathetic noises would have done, but you cannot make them in a car, at least you cannot possibly make them loud enough to be heard.
***
“Just fancy!”…. Gaiety itself, Effie invited them all to fancy with her.
***
“South Dakota!” Inigo’s cry was ecstatic. The man must really have been there because you couldn’t think of South Dakota, couldn’t just lift it out of some mental map.
***
Inigo never knew what to reply to remarks of this kind about the weather. People who made them always seemed to belong to a society of weather observers or even weather owners, and he always felt that he himself was too much of an outsider to do more than merely mumble something in response.
***
“She was easily the world’s worst as a pianist. She daren’t have looked Little Nelly’s Instruction Book in the face.”
***
“She insisted upon telling me all about the annual dinner of the Rawsley and West Something-or-other Horticultural Society, which has been held here since 1898. So there!”
