Until this moment, Horace had been going through the motions with something of the weary moodiness of a Volga Boatman, his face drawn, hi manner listless. But now he had become a different man. As he advanced to the ninth tee, his eyes gleamed, his ears wiggled and his lips were set. He looked like a Volga Boatman who had just learned that Stalin has purged his employer.
(from "Excelsior," by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
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