Explore "Mr. Mulliner Stories" by P. G. Wodehouse on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Another Sunday was drawing to a close, and Mr. Mulliner had come into the bar-parlour of the Anglers' Rest wearing on his head, in place of the seedy old wideawake which usually adorned it, a glistening top-hat. From this, combined with the sober black of his costume and the rather devout voice in which he ordered hot Scotch and lemon, I deduced that he had been attending Evensong.
"Good sermon? " I asked.