Something New by P. G. Wodehouse


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Page 122

"Yes; I do--or I think I do. What it comes to, in a few words, is
that somebody you were fond of has gone out of your life. Is that
it?"

Joan nodded.

"Yes--at least, that is partly it. I didn't really know Aline
particularly well, beyond having been at school with her, but
you're right. It's not so much what has happened as what it
represents that matters. This elopement has marked the end of a
phase of my life. I think I have it now. My life has been such a
series of jerks. I dash along--then something happens which stops
that bit of my life with a jerk; and then I have to start over
again--a new bit. I think I'm getting tired of jerks. I want
something stodgy and continuous.

"I'm like one of the old bus horses that could go on forever if
people got off without making them stop. It's the having to get
the bus moving again that wears one out. This little section of
my life since we came here is over, and it is finished for good.
I've got to start the bus going again on a new road and with a
new set of passengers. I wonder whether the old horses used to be
sorry when they dropped one lot of passengers and took on a lot
of strangers?"

A sudden dryness invaded Ashe's throat. He tried to speak, but
found no words. Joan went on:

"Do you ever get moods when life seems absolutely meaningless?
It's like a badly-constructed story, with all sorts of characters
moving in and out who have nothing to do with the plot. And when
somebody comes along that you think really has something to do
with the plot, he suddenly drops out. After a while you begin to
wonder what the story is about, and you feel that it's about
nothing--just a jumble."

"There is one thing," said Ashe, "that knits it together."

"What is that?"

"The love interest."

Their eyes met and suddenly there descended on Ashe confidence.
He felt cool and alert, sure of himself, as in the old days he
had felt when he ran races and, the nerve-racking hours of
waiting past, he listened for the starter's gun. Subconsciously
he was aware he had always been a little afraid of Joan, and that
now he was no longer afraid.

"Joan, will you marry me?"

Her eyes wandered from his face. He waited.

"I wonder!" she said softly. "You think that is the solution?"

"Yes."

"How can you tell?" she broke out. "We scarcely know each other.
I shan't always be in this mood. I may get restless again. I may
find it is the jerks that I really like."

"You won't!"

"You're very confident."

"I am absolutely confident."

"'She travels fastest who travels alone,'" misquoted Joan.

"What is the good," said Ashe, "of traveling fast if you're going
round in a circle? I know how you feel. I've felt the same
myself. You are an individualist. You think there is something
tremendous just round the corner and that you can get it if you
try hard enough. There isn't--or if there is it isn't worth
getting. Life is nothing but a mutual aid association. I am going
to help old Peters--you are going to help me--I am going to help
you."

"Help me to do what?"

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Fri 27th Feb 2026, 17:05