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Wodehouse, P. G. (Pelham Grenville), 1881-1975

"Death at the Excelsior And Other Stories"

You didn't want to give trouble,
even if you had to sacrifice your principles. But it's all right now.
You are going to have your vegetables."
Peter drew a deep breath--the breath of the man who braces himself up
and thanks whatever gods there be for his unconquerable soul.
"I don't care," he said. "'A book of verses underneath the bough, a jug
of wine, and thou----'"
"Oh, and I forgot," interrupted Eve. "I told her you were a teetotaller
as well."
There was another silence, longer than the first.
"The best train," said Eve, at last, "is the ten-fifty."
He looked at her inquiringly.
"The best train?"
"For London."
"What makes you think that I am interested in trains to London?"
Eve bit her lip.
"Mr. Rayner," she said, after a pause, "do you remember at lunch one
day at Mrs. Elphinstone's refusing parsnips? You said that, so far as
you were concerned, parsnips were first by a mile, and that prussic
acid and strychnine also ran."
"Well?" said Peter.
"Oh, nothing," said Eve. "Only I made a stupid mistake. I told the cook
you were devoted to parsnips. I'm sorry."
Peter looked at her gravely. "I'm putting up with a lot for your sake,"
he said.
"You needn't. Why don't you go away?"
"And leave you chained to the rock, Andromeda? Not for Perseus! I've
only been here one night, but I've seen enough to know that I've got to
take you away from this place.


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