Something New by Pelham Grenville Wodehouse (rom com books to read .TXT) 📖
- Author: Pelham Grenville Wodehouse
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"We Have Known Each Other So Long," Said Emerson, "And I Have
Told You So Often That I Love You, We Have Come To Make Almost A
Joke Of It, As Though We Were Playing Some Game. It Just Happens
That That Is Our Way--To Laugh At Things; But I Am Going To Say
It Once Again, Even Though It Has Come To Be A Sort Of Catch
Phrase. I Love You! I'm Reconciled To The Fact That I Am Done
For, Out Of The Running, And That You Are Going To Marry Somebody
Else; But I Am Not Going To Stop Loving You.
"It Isn't A Question Of Whether I Should Be Happier If I Forgot
You. I Can't Do It. It's Just An Impossibility--And That's All
There Is To It. Whatever I May Be To You, You Are Part Of Me, And
You Always Will Be Part Of Me. I Might Just As Well Try To Go On
Living Without Breathing As Living Without Loving You."
He Stopped And Straightened Himself.
"That's All! I Don't Want To Spoil A Perfectly Good Spring
Afternoon For You By Pulling Out The Tragic Stop. I Had To Say
All That; But It's The Last Time. It Shan't Occur Again. There
Will Be No Tragedy When I Step Into The Train To-Morrow. Is There
Any Chance That You Might Come And See Me Off?"
Aline Nodded.
"You Will? That Will Be Splendid! Now I'll Go And Pack And Break
It To My Host That I Must Leave Him. I Expect, It Will Be News To
Him To Learn That I Am Here. I Doubt If He Knows Me By Sight."
Aline Stood Where He Had Left Her, Leaning On The Balustrade. In
The Fullness Of Time There Came To Her The Recollection She Had
Promised Freddie That Shortly After Luncheon She Would Sit With
Him.
The Honorable Freddie, Draped In Purple Pyjamas And Propped Up
With Many Pillows, Was Lying In Bed, Reading Gridley Quayle,
Investigator. Aline's Entrance Occurred At A Peculiarly Poignant
Moment In The Story And Gave Him A Feeling Of Having Been Brought
Violently To Earth From A Flight In The Clouds. It Is Not Often
An Author Has The Good Fortune To Grip A Reader As The Author Of
Gridley Quayle Gripped Freddie.
Chapter 11 Pg 172
One Of The Results Of His Absorbed Mood Was That He Greeted Aline
With A Stare Of An Even Glassier Quality Than Usual. His Eyes
Were By Nature A Trifle Prominent; And To Aline, In The
Overstrung Condition In Which Her Talk With George Emerson Had
Left Her, They Seemed To Bulge At Her Like A Snail's. A Man
Seldom Looks His Best In Bed, And To Aline, Seeing Him For The
First Time At This Disadvantage, The Honorable Freddie Seemed
Quite Repulsive. It Was With A Feeling Of Positive Panic That She
Wondered Whether He Would Want Her To Kiss Him.
Freddie Made No Such Demand. He Was Not One Of Your Demonstrative
Lovers. He Contented Himself With Rolling Over In Bed And
Dropping His Lower Jaw.
"Hello, Aline!"
Aline Sat Down On The Edge Of The Bed.
"Well, Freddie?"
Her Betrothed Improved His Appearance A Little By Hitching Up His
Jaw. As Though Feeling That Would Be Too Extreme A Measure, He
Did Not Close His Mouth Altogether; But He Diminished The Abyss.
The Honorable Freddie Belonged To The Class Of Persons Who Move
Through Life With Their Mouths Always Restfully Open.
It Seemed To Aline That On This Particular Afternoon A Strange
Dumbness Had Descended On Her. She Had Been Unable To Speak To
George And Now She Could Not Think Of Anything To Say To Freddie.
She Looked At Him And He Looked At Her; And The Clock On The
Mantel-Piece Went On Ticking.
"It Was That Bally Cat Of Aunt Ann's," Said Freddie At Length,
Essaying Light Conversation. "It Came Legging It Up The Stairs
And I Took The Most Frightful Toss. I Hate Cats! Do You Hate
Cats? I Knew A Fellow In London Who Couldn't Stand Cats."
Aline Began To Wonder Whether There Was Not Something Permanently
Wrong With Her Organs Of Speech. It Should Have Been A Simple
Matter To Develop The Cat Theme, But She Found Herself Unable To
Do So. Her Mind Was Concentrated, To The Exclusion Of All Else,
On The Repellent Nature Of The Spectacle Provided By Her Loved
One In Pyjamas. Freddie Resumed The Conversation.
"I Was Just Reading A Corking Book. Have You Ever Read These
Things? They Come Out Every Month, And They're Corking. The
Fellow Who Writes Them Must Be A Corker. It Beats Me How He
Thinks Of These Things. They Are About A Detective--A Chap Called
Gridley Quayle. Frightfully Exciting!"
An Obvious Remedy For Dumbness Struck Aline.
"Shall I Read To You, Freddie?"
Chapter 11 Pg 173
"Right-Ho! Good Scheme! I've Got To The Top Of This Page."
Aline Took The Paper-Covered Book.
"'Seven Guns Covered Him With Deadly Precision.' Did You Get As
Far As That?"
"Yes; Just Beyond. It's A Bit Thick, Don't You Know! This Chappie
Quayle Has Been Trapped In A Lonely House, Thinking He Was Going
To See A Pal In Distress; And Instead Of The Pal There Pop Out A
Whole Squad Of Masked Blighters With Guns. I Don't See How He's
Going To Get Out Of It, Myself; But I'll Bet He Does. He's A
Corker!"
If Anybody Could Have Pitied Aline More Than She Pitied Herself,
As She Waded Through The Adventures Of Mr. Quayle, It Would Have
Been Ashe Marson. He Had Writhed As He Wrote The Words And She
Writhed As She Read Them. The Honorable Freddie Also Writhed, But
With Tense Excitement.
"What's The Matter? Don't Stop!" He Cried As Aline's Voice
Ceased.
"I'm Getting Hoarse, Freddie."
Freddie Hesitated. The Desire To Remain On The Trail With Gridley
Struggled With Rudimentary Politeness.
"How Would It Be--Would You Mind If I Just Took A Look At The
Rest Of It Myself? We Could Talk Afterward, You Know. I Shan't Be
Long."
"Of Course! Do Read If You Want To. But Do You Really Like This
Sort Of Thing, Freddie?"
"Me? Rather! Why--Don't You?"
"I Don't Know. It Seems A Little--I Don't Know."
Freddie Had Become Absorbed In His Story. Aline Did Not Attempt
Further Analysis Of Her Attitude Toward Mr. Quayle; She Relapsed
Into Silence.
It Was A Silence Pregnant With Thought. For The First Time In
Their Relations, She Was Trying To Visualize To Herself Exactly
What Marriage With This Young Man Would Mean. Hitherto, It Struck
Her, She Had Really Seen So Little Of Freddie That She Had
Scarcely Had A Chance Of Examining Him. In The Crowded World
Outside He Had Always Seemed A Tolerable Enough Person. To-Day,
Somehow, He Was Different. Everything Was Different To-Day.
This, She Took It, Was A Fair Sample Of What She Might Expect
After Marriage. Marriage Meant--To Come To Essentials--That Two
Chapter 11 Pg 174People Were Very Often And For Lengthy Periods Alone Together,
Dependent On Each Other For Mutual Entertainment. What Exactly
Would It Be Like, Being Alone Often And For Lengthy Periods With
Freddie? Well, It Would, She Assumed, Be Like This.
"It's All Right," Said Freddie Without Looking Up. "He Did Get
Out! He Had A Bomb On Him, And He Threatened To Drop It And Blow
The Place To Pieces Unless The Blighters Let Him Go. So They
Cheesed It. I Knew He Had Something Up His Sleeve."
Like This! Aline Drew A Deep Breath. It Would Be Like
This--Forever And Ever And Ever--Until She Died. She Bent Forward
And Stared At Him.
"Freddie," She Said, "Do You Love Me?" There Was No Reply.
"Freddie, Do You Love Me? Am I A Part Of You? If You Hadn't Me
Would It Be Like Trying To Go On Living Without Breathing?"
The Honorable Freddie Raised A Flushed Face And Gazed At Her With
An Absent Eye.
"Eh? What?" He Said. "Do I--Oh; Yes, Rather! I Say, One Of The
Blighters Has Just Loosed A Rattlesnake Into Gridley Quayle's
Bedroom Through The Transom!"
Aline Rose From Her Seat And Left The Room Softly. The Honorable
Freddie Read On, Unheeding.
* * *
Ashe Marson Had Not Fallen Far Short Of The Truth In His Estimate
Of The Probable Effect On Mr. Peters Of The Information That His
Precious Scarab Had Once More Been Removed By Alien Hands And Was
Now Farther From His Grasp Than Ever. A Drawback To Success In
Life Is That Failure, When It Does Come, Acquires An Exaggerated
Importance. Success Had Made Mr. Peters, In Certain Aspects Of
His Character, A Spoiled Child.
At The Moment When Ashe Broke The News He Would Have Parted With
Half His Fortune To Recover The Scarab. Its Recovery Had Become A
Point Of Honor. He Saw It As The Prize Of A Contest Between His
Will And That Of Whatever Malignant Powers There Might Be Ranged
Against Him In The Effort To Show Him That There Were Limits To
What He Could Achieve. He Felt As He Had Felt In The Old Days
When People Sneaked Up On Him In Wall Street And Tried To Loosen
His Grip On A Railroad Or A Pet Stock. He Was Suffering From That
Form Of Paranoia Which Makes Men Multimillionaires. Nobody Would
Be Foolish Enough To Become A Multimillionaire If It Were Not For
The Desire To Prove Himself Irresistible.
Mr. Peters Obtained A Small Relief For His Feelings By Doubling
The Existing Reward, And Ashe Went Off In Search Of Joan, Hoping
That This New Stimulus, Acting On Their Joint Brains, Might
Develop Inspiration.
Chapter 11 Pg 175
"Have Any Fresh Ideas Been Vouchsafed To You?" He Asked. "You May
Look On Me As Baffled."
Joan Shook Her Head.
"Don't Give Up," She Urged. "Think Again. Try To
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