"What in the world, Wimsey, are you doing in this Morgue?" demanded Captain Fentiman, flinging aside the "Evening Banner" with the air of a man released from an irksome duty.
"Oh, I wouldn't call it that," retorted Wimsey, amiably. "Funeral Parlor at the very least. Look at the marble. Look at the furnishings. Look at the palms and the chaste brone nude in the corner."
"Yes, and look at the corpses. Place always reminds me of that old thing in 'Punch,' you know - 'Walter, take away Lord Whatisname, he's been dead two days.' Look at Old Ormsby there, snoring like a hippopotamus. Look at my revered grandpa - dodders in here at ten every morning, collects the 'Morning Post' and the armchair by the fire, and become part of the furniture till the evening."
(from The Unpleasantness in the Bellona Club, by Dorothy Sayers)
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