Endless Ends

I'm reading a book call The False Inspector Dew.

It's something I picked up after seeing a review on unusual mystery novels. This was written in the early 80s and has certainly been unusual so far. It is vaguely reminiscent of P. G. Wodehouse in style.

The famine heroine, if I can call her that, started off on the first page comparing herself to one of the heroines in one of her favorite tragic romances (Moths)

"She, too, was quite unconscious of her own great beauty"

This sentence just all kinds of cracks me up. 🤣 🤣🤣
 
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