In his bearing, as he hurried along the path that skirted the kitchen garden - in the oily smirk beneath his repellent moustache, in the jaunty tilt of his snub nose, even in the terraced sweep of the brilliantine swamps of his corrugated hair - there was the look of a man who is congratulating himself on a neat bit of work. Brains, reflected Percy Pilbeam - that was what you needed in this life. Brains and the ability to seize your opportunity when it was offered to you.
- P.G. Wodehouse, Heavy Weather, p.230
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