"Well, Bertie?"
"Well, what?"
"I mean, isn't she?"
"Oh, rather," I said, humouring the poor fish.
"Wonderful eyes?"
"Oh, rather."
"Wonderful figure?"
"Oh, quite."
"Wonderful voice?"
Here I was able to intone the response with a little more heartiness. The Bellinger, at Tuppy's request, had sung us a few songs before digging in at the trough, and nobody could have denied that her pipes were in great shape. Plaster was still falling from the ceiling.
(from Very Good, Jeeves!, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
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