‘ “Any message I can give him, if he turns up?”
“Yes. You can tell him I am going to break his neck.”
“Break his neck?”
“Yes. Are you deaf? Break his neck.”
I nodded pacifically.
“I see. Break his neck. Right. And if he asks why?”
“He knows why. Because he is a butterfly who toys with women’s hearts and throws them away like soiled gloves.”
“Right ho.” I hadn’t any notion that that was what butterflies did. Most interesting. “Well, I’ll let him know if I run across him.” '
-- P. G. Wodehouse, The Code of the Woosters, chap. 6