A Damsel in Distress by P. G. Wodehouse


Main
- books.jibble.org



My Books
- IRC Hacks

Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare

External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd

books.jibble.org

Previous Page | Next Page

Page 95

"Absolutely! And looking positively festive."

"I feel so awful, Mr. Bevan," said Alice. "You know, I left the
castle without a word to anyone, and he doesn't know yet that there
won't be any secretary waiting for him when he gets back."

Reggie took another look over George's shoulder and chuckled.

"It's all right, darling. Don't worry. We can nip off secretly by
the other door. He's not going to stop us. He's got a girl with
him! The old boy has come to life--absolutely! He's gassing away
sixteen to the dozen to a frightfully pretty girl with gold hair.
If you slew the old bean round at an angle of about forty-five,
Bevan, old top, you can see her. Take a look. He won't see you.
He's got his back to us."

"Do you call her pretty?" asked Alice disparagingly.

"Now that I take a good look, precious," replied Reggie with
alacrity, "no! Absolutely not! Not my style at all!"

His wife crumbled bread.

"I think she must know you, Reggie dear," she said softly. "She's
waving to you."

"She's waving to _me_," said George, bringing back the sunshine to
Reggie's life, and causing the latter's face to lose its hunted
look. "I know her very well. Her name's Dore. Billie Dore."

"Old man," said Reggie, "be a good fellow and slide over to their
table and cover our retreat. I know there's nothing to be afraid of
really, but I simply can't face the old boy."

"And break the news to him that I've gone, Mr. Bevan," added Alice.

"Very well, I'll say good-bye, then."

"Good-bye, Mr. Bevan, and thank you ever so much."

Reggie shook George's hand warmly.

"Good-bye, Bevan old thing, you're a ripper. I can't tell you how
bucked up I am at the sportsmanlike way you've rallied round. I'll
do the same for you one of these days. Just hold the old boy in
play for a minute or two while we leg it. And, if he wants us, tell
him our address till further notice is Paris. What ho! What ho!
What ho! Toodle-oo, laddie, toodle-oo!"

George threaded his way across the room. Billie Dore welcomed him
with a friendly smile. The earl, who had turned to observe his
progress, seemed less delighted to see him. His weather-beaten face
wore an almost furtive look. He reminded George of a schoolboy who
has been caught in some breach of the law.

"Fancy seeing you here, George!" said Billie. "We're always
meeting, aren't we? How did you come to separate yourself from the
pigs and chickens? I thought you were never going to leave them."

"I had to run up on business," explained George. "How are you, Lord
Marshmoreton?"

The earl nodded briefly.

"So you're on to him, too?" said Billie. "When did you get wise?"

"Lord Marshmoreton was kind enough to call on me the other morning
and drop the incognito."

"Isn't dadda the foxiest old thing!" said Billie delightedly.
"Imagine him standing there that day in the garden, kidding us
along like that! I tell you, when they brought me his card last
night after the first act and I went down to take a slant at this
Lord Marshmoreton and found dadda hanging round the stage door, you
could have knocked me over with a whisk-broom."

"I have not stood at the stage-door for twenty-five years," said
Lord Marshmoreton sadly.

"Now, it's no use your pulling that Henry W. Methuselah stuff,"
said Billie affectionately. "You can't get away with it. Anyone
can see you're just a kid. Can't they, George?" She indicated the
blushing earl with a wave of the hand. "Isn't dadda the youngest
thing that ever happened?"

Previous Page | Next Page


Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Mon 6th Oct 2025, 7:30