Daily Pym

Sister Dew lay in bed, uncertain whether to get up or to pretend that she was not yet awake. She turned over to look at her watch on the table between the two beds. Twenty past seven. Daisy was taking up more than her share of the table with a guide-book, a Bible, two novels, and a large bottle of Kitzymes, which Sister Dew happened to know were yeast tablets for cats. Surely she didn’t take them herself?

— An Unsuitable Attachment, chapter fifteen