The hard part of being a cop

 Alleyn decided to press home what might or might not be an advantage and so did so with distaste. He had been in the police service for over twenty years. Under slow pressure his outward habit had toughened, but, like an ice cube that under warmth will yield its surface but retain its inward form, so his personality had kept its pattern intact. When an investigation led him, as this did, to take action that was distasteful to him, he imposed a discipline upon himself and went forward. It was a kind of abstinence, however, that prompted him to do so.

(from Scales of Justice, by Dame Ngaio Marsh)

Murder? Not likely

     "Ah. The baronet, now," Fox went on, "he's sweet on her as anyone could see. Would you think it was a strong enough attraction to incite either of them to violence?"

    "I should think he was going through the silly season most men of his type experience. I must say I can't see him raising an amatory passion to the power of homicide in any woman. You never know of course. I should think she must find life in Swevenings pretty dim."

(from Scales of Justice, by Dame Ngaio Marsh)

P. C. Gripper

 "Sergeants Bailey and Thompson and P. C. Gripper made sympathetic noises."

We find this expression in Scales of Justice, by Dame Ngaio Marsh. The abbreviation "P. C." stands for Police Constable, which is the lowest rank in the British police hierarchy.

Overly fastidious

     "I wouldn't mention the boy if I were you. He was in the Foreign Service and blotted his copybook as I dare say you know. It was quite a tragedy. It's never mentioned."

    "Is it not? What sort of a man was Colonel Carterette?"

    "Pig-headed, quixotic fellow. Obstinate as a mule. One of those pathetically conscientious people who aim so high they get a permanent crick in their conscience."

(from Scales of Justice, by Dame Ngaio Marsh)

The evil eye

 His voice had rung out with the clarion note of a costermonger seeking to draw the attention of the purchasing public to his blood oranges and Brussels sprouts. I saw the ancestor stiffen, and I knew she was about to go into her grande dame act. This relative, though in ordinary circs so genial and matey, can on occasion turn in a flash into a carbon copy of a duchess of the old school reducing an underling to a spot of grease, and what is so remarkable is that she doesn't have to use a lorgnette, just does it all with the power of the human eye. I think girls in her day used to learn the trick at their finishing schools.

(from Jeeves and the Tie That Binds, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)

Not wholly spiritual

     "He stands it, aged relative, because he loves her, and you wouldn't be far wrong in saying that love conquers all. I know what you mean, of course. It suprises you that a fellow of his thews and sinews should curl up in a ball when she looks squiggle-eyed at him and receive her strictures, if that's the word I want, with the meekness of a spaniel rebuked for bringing a decaying bone into the drawing room. What you overlook is the fact that in the matter of finely chiseled profile, willowy figure and platinum-blonde hair she is well up among the top ten, and these things weigh with a man like Ginger. You and I, regarding Florence coolly, pencil her in as too bossy for hyman consumption, but he gets a different slant. It's the old business of what Jeeves calls the psychology of the individual.

    "Very possibly the seeds of rebellion start to seethe within him when she speaks her mind, but he catches sight of her sideways or gets a glimpse of her hair, assuming for purposes of argument that she isn't wearing  hat, or notices once again that she has as many curves as a scenic railway, and he feels that it's worth putting up with a spot of mind-speaking in order to make her his own. His love, you see, is not wholly spiritual. There's a bit of the carnal mixed up in it."

(from Jeeves and the Tie That Binds, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)

He botched it again

     "It was the Chamber of Commerce luncheon at the Town Hall. A vitally important occasion, and he made the feeblest speech i have ever heard. A child with water on the brain could have done better. Even you could have done better."

    Well, I suppose placing me on a level of efficiency with a water-on-the-brain child was quite a stately compliment coming from Florence, so I didn't go further into the matter, and she carried on, puffs of flame emerging from both nostrils.

    "Er, er, er!"

    "I beg your pardon."

    "He kept saying Er, Er, er, er. I could have thrown a coffee spoon at him."

    Here, of course, was my chance to work in the old gag about to err being human, but it didn't seem to me the moment. Instead, I said, "He was probably nervous."

(from Jeeves and the Tie That Binds, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)