She looked at me in rather a rummy way. It was a nasty look. It made me feel as if I were something the dog had brought in and intended to bury later on, when he had time. My own Aung Agatha, back in England, has looked at me in exactly the same way many a tie, and it nevr fails to make my spine curl.
(from Carry On, Jeeves, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
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