The Girl on the Boat - Penn State University
The Girl on the Boat - Penn State University
The Girl on the Boat - Penn State University
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“Dropped my pen!” he gurgled again.<br />
“Yes?” said Billie.<br />
“Fountain-pen,” babbled Sam, “with a broad nib.”<br />
“Yes?”<br />
“A broad gold nib,” went <strong>on</strong> Sam, with <strong>the</strong> painful<br />
exactitude which comes <strong>on</strong>ly from embarrassment or<br />
<strong>the</strong> early stages of intoxicati<strong>on</strong>.<br />
“Really?” said Billie, and Sam blinked and told himself<br />
resolutely that this would not do. He was not appearing<br />
to advantage. It suddenly occurred to him that<br />
his hair was standing <strong>on</strong> end as <strong>the</strong> result of his struggle<br />
with Widgery. He smoo<strong>the</strong>d it down hastily, and felt a<br />
trifle more composed. <str<strong>on</strong>g>The</str<strong>on</strong>g> old fighting spirit of <strong>the</strong><br />
Marlowes now began to assert itself to some extent.<br />
He must make an effort to appear as little of a fool as<br />
possible in this girl’s eyes. And what eyes <strong>the</strong>y were!<br />
Golly! Like stars! Like two bright planets in ….<br />
However, that was nei<strong>the</strong>r here nor <strong>the</strong>re. He pulled<br />
down his waistcoat and became cold and business-like,—<br />
<strong>the</strong> dry young lawyer.<br />
“Er—how do you do, Miss Bennett?” he said with a<br />
P. G. Wodehouse<br />
129<br />
questi<strong>on</strong> in his voice, raising his eyebrows in a professi<strong>on</strong>al<br />
way. He modelled this performance <strong>on</strong> that of<br />
lawyers he had seen <strong>on</strong> <strong>the</strong> stage, and wished he had<br />
some snuff to take or something to tap against his fr<strong>on</strong>t<br />
teeth. “Miss Bennett, I believe?”<br />
<str<strong>on</strong>g>The</str<strong>on</strong>g> effect of <strong>the</strong> questi<strong>on</strong> up<strong>on</strong> Billie was disastrous.<br />
She had come to this office with beating heart, prepared<br />
to end all misunderstandings, to sob <strong>on</strong> her soulmate’s<br />
shoulder and generally make everything up; but<br />
at this inane exhibiti<strong>on</strong> <strong>the</strong> fighting spirit of <strong>the</strong><br />
Bennetts—which was fully as militant as that of <strong>the</strong><br />
Marlowes—became roused. She told herself that she<br />
had been mistaken in supposing that she still loved<br />
this man. She was a proud girl and refused to admit<br />
herself capable of loving any man who looked at her<br />
as if she was something that <strong>the</strong> cat had brought in.<br />
She drew herself up stiffly.<br />
“Yes,” she replied. “How clever of you to remember<br />
me.”<br />
“I have a good memory.”<br />
“How nice! So have I!”