Arabella

by Georgette Heyer

suffering from the ear-ache, and, besides stuffing a roasted onion into the afflicted orifice, had swathed her head and neck in an old Cashmere shawl.

Excuse me what

Arabella had by far the better figure, and the neater ankle.

No cankles around here

but their owner cherished in one of his chests of drawers a pair of yellow pantaloons which he had not yet dared to display to his papa, but which, he rather fancied, turned him into a veritable Tulip of Fashion.

It’s okay we all went through our colored skinny jeans phase

Bertram seized the opportunity afforded by the general outcry of laughing protests to inform Betsy in a savage under-voice that if she opened her lips again he would most faithfully drop her in the middle of the duck-pond on the morrow, which promise so terrified her that she sat mumchance throughout the rest of the meal.

Everyone in London will be such a bore compared to this delightful family

‘Any diversion is better than none!’ replied Lord Fleetwood. ‘What a singularly infelicitous remark! I wonder why I invited you.’

Golden retriever/black cat friendship

or that that artist in the kitchen, having, with strange Gallic imprecations which made his various assistants quake, rent limb from limb two half-roasted Davenport fowls, and flung them into a pan with a béchamel sauce and some tarragons, was even now, as he arranged a basket of pastry on a dish, undecided whether to leave this dishonoured house on the instant, or to cut his throat with the larger carving-knife.

I love this whole dramatic cast

‘Just as well, for laced mutton being brought into the family is what I won’t put up with! Not that I think you’re fool enough for that.’ ‘Where do you learn your abominable expressions, ma’am?’ demanded Mr Beaumaris. ‘I don’t belong to your mealy-mouthed generation, thank God!

When I wasn’t trying to swallow something that no one is ever going to make me believe wasn’t drained off from the kennels,

Me drinking California tap water