The Girl on the Boat - Penn State University

iage under conditions like that. When I came back a
bit done up after a long sitting at the House, he would
mix me a whisky-and-soda and read poetry to me or
prattle about all the things he had been doing during
the day …. Why, it would be ideal!”
Jane Hubbard gave a little sigh. Her fine eyes gazed
dreamily at a smoke ring which she had sent floating
towards the ceiling.
“Jane,” said Billie. “I believe you’re thinking of somebody
definite. Who is he?”
<strong>The</strong> big-game huntress blushed. <strong>The</strong> embarrassment
which she exhibited made her look manlier than ever.
“I don’t know his name.”
“But there is really someone?”
“Yes.”
“How splendid! Tell me about him.”
Jane Hubbard clasped her strong hands and looked
down at the floor.
“I met him on the Subway a couple of days before I
left New York. You know how crowded the Subway
is at the rush hour. I had a seat, of course, but this
P. G. Wodehouse
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poor little fellow—so good-looking, my dear! he reminded
me of the pictures of Lord Byron—was hanging
from a strap and being jerked about till I thought
his poor little arms would be wrenched out of their
sockets. And he looked so unhappy, as though he had
some secret sorrow. I offered him my seat, but he
wouldn’t take it. A couple of stations later, however,
the man next to me got out and he sat down and we
got into conversation. <strong>The</strong>re wasn’t time to talk much.
I told him I had been down-town fetching an elephantgun
which I had left to be mended. He was so prettily
interested when I showed him the mechanism. We
got along famously. But—oh, well, it was just another
case of ships that pass in the night—I’m afraid I’ve
been boring you.”
“Oh, Jane! You haven’t! You see … you see, I’m in
love myself.”
“I had an idea you were,” said her friend looking at
her critically. “You’ve been refusing your oats the last
few days, and that’s a sure sign. Is he that fellow that’s
always around with you and who looks like a parrot?”