Jo, Noah, and I started reading a book together in the evenings. We chose Very Good, Jeeves, a book by the British author Pelham Granville Wodehouse written in the 1920s, I believe. None of us have read anything by him before, but his name came up a couple times out of the blue within a short period, and a long time ago, I recall that Rachel Mae recommended his writing, so here we have it.

"Very good, sir."

"The rain continued to lash down with what you might call indescribable fury..."

"The Right Hon. was a tubby little chap who looked as if he had been poured into his clothes and had forgotten to say "When!" and the picture he conjured up, if you know what I mean, was rather pleasing."