unearths some literary gems.
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a thinnish face that was neither attractive nor ugly but merely present in the usual place
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["The Whatever-You-Call-Him Is Mutual" dept.]
"I didn't, but apparently our mutual whatever-you-call-him did."
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"Dolph should be home by now, unless he's gone to a banquet at the Home for Retired Woolgatherers or some other...."
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[A snatch of breakfast-table conversation, illustrating the comedic value of marmalade.]
"Hartler was an old food. Quiffen was a worse fool. Trouble you for the marmalade."
[And of course the name "Quiffen" is no slouch as a funny word, either.]
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It was not so easy to enjoy an innocent glass of preprandial sherry with Miss Hartler recoiling from the tray as from a striking cobra every time Charles passed within recoiling distance.
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[Dolph] waxed as genial as Dolph knew how to wax.
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Mr. Porter-Smith...preferred to go someplace where he could show off his new cummerbund.
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G. Thackford Bodkin was not the sort of name one got wrong.
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[Who Needs Context? dept.]
One couldn't go on ladling cranberry juice over a wet blanket forever.
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