Unnatural Death (Lord Peter Wimsey, #3)

by Dorothy L. Sayers

it isn’t really difficult to write books. Especially if you either write a rotten story in good English or a good story in rotten English, which is as far as most people seem to get nowadays.

‘cut the cackle, and come to the horses’(!!).

A funny one, or I shouldn’t remember it—Gotobed, that was it—Bertha and Evelyn Gotobed.

The June day had risen long ago, but only a pale and yellowish gleam lit the half-deserted streets. And it was bitterly cold and raining. “What is the matter with the day?” said Wimsey. “Is the world coming to an end?” “No,” said Parker, “it is the eclipse.”