There was something sort of bleak about her tone, rather as if she had swallowed an east wind. This I took to be due to the fact that she probably hadn't breakfasted. It's only after a bit of breakfast that I'm able to regard the world with that sunny cheeriness which makes a fellow the universal favourite. I'm never much of a lad till I've engulfed an egg or two and a beaker of coffee."I suppose you haven't breakfasted?"I have not yet breakfasted."Won't you have an egg or something? Or a sausage or something? Or something?"No, thank you."She spoke as if she belonged to an anti-sausage league or a league for the suppression of eggs. There was a bit of silence.
P. G. WodehouseAbout author
- Author's profession: Writer, Playwright
- Nationality: english
- Born: October 15, 1881
- Died: February 14, 1975
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