Uneasy Money by P. G. Wodehouse

A gray sadness surged over Bill Dawlish. The sun hid itself behind a cloud, the sky took on a leaden hue and a chill wind blew through the world. He scanned Shaftesbury Avenue with a jaundiced eye, and thought that he had never seen a beastlier or more depressing thoroughfare. Piccadilly, however, into which he shortly dragged himself, was even worse. It was full of men and women and other depressing things.

He pitied himself profoundly. It was a rotten world to live in, this, where a fellow couldn't say, "Noblesse oblige" without upsetting the universe. Why shouldn't a fellow say, "Noblesse oblige? " Why -- At this juncture Lord Dawlish walked into a lamppost.