When is Dada!  I’ve just discovered part of a new novel combining fragments of other books on the shelf:

We are now come by another way to a point we had reached before.
‘Is anything true here? Is anything permanent?’ was his first remark.
‘Ah, we must search for that, I suppose.’ she replied, speaking low.

The couple made towards the house and a dash for the door.
‘Did he tell of storms in the earth?’ he pulled up.
‘At this time o’night?’

‘Sheep! Sheep!’ howled a person not in the story.

‘Ask it,’ he said, leaning back.
‘Do you believe in a literature and an art which expresses the aspirations of the working class?’
She smiled remotely. ‘I am not a lively companion for you, I fear.’
‘God damn me but you shall be! And who is Trevor?’
‘My dear, go and lie down on your bed. You’ve had a hard lesson.’
“There” he said. “Look!”
‘Fresh eggs! Fresh eggs!’  It was Trevor.

I need only add that the careless maidservant was dismissed forthwith.