Lady Glossip: Mr. Wooster, how would you support a wife? Bertie Wooster: Well, I suppose it depends on who's wife it was, a little gentle pressure beneath the elbow while crossing a busy street usually fits the bill.

Unseen in the background, Fate was quietly slipping lead into the boxing-glove.

It is the bungled crime that brings remorse.

the ice was not only broken; it was shivered into a million fragments

Well, you know, there are limits to the sacred claims of friendship.

He was one of those earnest, persevering dancers--the kind that have taken twelve correspondence lessons.

But everything is relative, Bertie... You, for instance, are my relative, and I am your relative.