“Brookfield, my correspondent, writes that last week he observed him in the moonlight at an advanced hour gazing up at his window.""Whose window? Brookfield's?""Yes, sir. Presumably under the impression that it was the young lady's.""But what the deuce is he doing at Twing at all?""Mr Little was compelled to resume his old position as tutor to Lord Wickhammersley's son at Twing Hall, sir. Owing to having been unsuccessful in some speculations at Hurst Park at the end of October.""Good Lord, Jeeves! Is there anything you don't know?""I couldn't say, sir.”

“Jeeves, Mr Little is in love with that female.""So I gathered, sir. She was slapping him in the passage."I clutched my brow."Slapping him?""Yes, sir. Roguishly.”

“Gandalf: Confound it all, Samwise Gamgee. Have you been eavesdropping? Sam: I ain't been droppin' no eaves sir, honest. I was just cutting the grass under the window there, if you'll follow me. Gandalf: A little late for trimming the verge, don't you think? Sam: I heard raised voices. Gandalf: What did you hear? Speak. Sam: N-nothing important. That is, I heard a good deal about a ring, and a Dark Lord, and something about the end of the world, but... Please, Mr. Gandalf, sir, don't hurt me. Don't turn me into anything... unnatural.”

“Oh, Jeeves,' I said; 'about that check suit.'Yes, sir?'Is it really a frost?'A trifle too bizarre, sir, in my opinion.'But lots of fellows have asked me who my tailor is.'Doubtless in order to avoid him, sir.'He's supposed to be one of the best men in London.'I am saying nothing against his moral character, sir.”

“Jeeves.""Sir?""Are you busy just now?""No, sir.""I mean, not doing anything in particular?""No, sir. It is my practice at this hour to read some improving book; but, if you desire my services, this can easily be postponed, or, indeed, abandoned altogether.”

“Brookfield High School. How may I direct your call? No, sir, this is not a waste- disposal unit, I'm afraid you have the wrong number.”