“‘Amongst all that mass of paper there must surely be one from a lovely maiden, James, at whose disposal I can place my rusty sword. Incidentally, what has become of the damned thing?’ ‘It’s in the lumber-room, sir—tied up with the old humbrella and the niblick you don’t like.’ 'Great heavens! Is it?’ Drummond helped himself to marmalade. 'And to think that I once pictured myself skewering Huns with it…’”
—
from Bull-Dog Drummond by H.C. McNeile (via ivan-fyodorovich)



















