Lord Emsworth, as his custom was, had pottered off there directly after breakfast, and now, at half past twelve, he was still standing, in company with his pig-man Pirbright, draped bonelessly over the rail of the sty, his mild eyes beaming with the light of a holy devotion.
From time to time he sniffed sensuously. Elsewhere throughout this fair domain the air was fragrant wit hthe myriad scents of high summer, but not where Lord Emsworth was doing his sniffing. Within a libereal radius of the Empress's headquarters other scents could not compete. This splendid animal diffused an aroma which was both distinctive and interesting. Attractive, too, if you liked that sort of thing, as Lord Emsworth did.
(from Heavy Weather, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
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