I can't help wondering about that person that was buying all the Wodehouse. What did they do with all those books? Destroy them? Or maybe they built some kind of bookish shrine.
Is there a room in a house somewhere were everything is made of Wodehouse?
Or assumes no one else is clever enough to love it like they do. Or they have a demon in their closet that demands regular feedings of quality light reading lest it devour the world entire, and of course Wodehouse placates it best.
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Is there a room in a house somewhere were everything is made of Wodehouse?
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I suspect that buyer just had a bit of OCD, though.
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