"Phoebe, poor lost soul, has a way of putting her head on one side like a canary and saying, 'What, dear?' when spoken to, which must be very annoying to a man accustomed to having one and all hang upon his lightest word. It is when she has done this some six or seven times in the course of a breakfast or luncheon that, according to Peasemarch, he shoots up to the ceiling in a sheet of flame and starts setting about her regardless of her age or sex. Yes, I can see his side of the thing, but it must be very bad for his blood pressure and far from pleasant for all concerned. Peasemarch says it wrings his heart to listen with his ear to the keyhole. You don't know Bert Peasemarch, do you?"
"No."
"Splended chap. About as much brain as you could put comfortably into an aspirin bottle, but what are brains if the heart be of gold?"
(from Cocktail Time, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
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