From the first chapter of P.G. Wodehouse’s Full Moon:
Lord Emsworth gave a quick, convulsive leap, then became strangely rigid. Like so many fathers of the English upper classes, he was somewhat allergic to younger sons, and was never at his happiest when entertaining the one whom unkind Fate had added to his quiver. Freddie, when at Blandings, had a way of mooning and looking like a bored and despairing sheep, with glassy eyes staring out over an eleven-inch cigarette holder, which had always been enough to bring a black frost into this Eden of his.