*    *    *    *    *

My Aunt Agatha, for instance, is tall and thin and looks rather like a vulture
in the Gobi desert, while Aunt Dahlia is short and solid, like a scrum half in the
game of Rugby football. In disposition, too, they differ widely. Aunt Agatha is cold
and haughty, though presumably unbending a bit when conducting human sacrifices
at the time of the full moon, as she is widely rumoured to do, and her attitude
towards me has always been that of an austere governess, causing me to feel as if I
were six years old and she had just caught me stealing jam from the jam cupboard:
whereas Aunt Dahlia is as jovial and bonhomous as a pantomime dame
in a Christmas pantomime.

*    *    *    *    *

She had a beaky nose, tight thin lips, and her eye could have been
used for splitting logs in the teak forests of Borneo.

*    *    *    *    *

I wouldn't say the Woosters were particularly proud, but we do rather
jib having to grovel to the scum of the earth.

*    *    *    *    *

I had not failed to interpret the significance of that dark frown,
that bitten lip and those flashing eyes, nor the way the willowy figure
had quivered, indicating, unless she had caught a chill, that she
was as sore as a sunburned neck.

*    *    *    *    *

"I don't like that," I said, addressing Jeeves, who during the recent
proceedings had been standing in the background giving a
lifelike impersonation of somebody who wasn't there.

*    *    *    *    *