prrumph

Updated: June 22, 2025

My father was just the same. Eleven-fifteen at the Savoy, then. The manager, who had been listening with some restlessness to the conversation, now intervened. He was a man with a sense of fitness of things, and he objected to having his private room made the scene of what appeared to be a reunion of old college chums. He hinted as much. 'Ha! Prrumph! he observed, disapprovingly.

P. G. (Pelham Grenville) Wodehouse - The Man Upstairs and Other Stories