I had finished my toilet, and was loitering with Frank Bracebridge in the library, when we heard a distant thwacking sound, which he informed me was a signal for the serving up of the dinner.

[…] a doddling old grandfather to act as sheep-dog, as a toothless, barkless, harmless guardian.

Oh Scheisse, he said. Look at that nasty scuffmark.

I found my jacket. — Sound.