"I asked you why Mr. Scrymgeour dismissed you."
"I'm telling you."
"I'm glad of that. I didn't know."
"The old brute," said Ginger, frowning again, "has a dog. A very jolly little spaniel. Great pal of mine. And Scrymgeour is the sort of fool who oughtn't be allowed to own a dog. He's one of those asses who isn't fit to own a dog. As a matter of fact, of all the blighted, pompous, bullying shrivelled-souled old devils . . ."
"One moment," said Sally. "I'm getting an impression that you don't like Mr. Scrymeour. Am I right?"
"Yes!"
"I thought so. Womanly intuition! Go on."
(from The Adventures of Sally, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
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