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

"Death at the Excelsior And Other Stories"

I took advantage of this to try and pave the
way for a confession on poor old Archie's part.
"I wonder, Archie, old top," I said one evening after we had dined on
mutton-hash and were sitting round trying to forget it, "I wonder you
don't try another line in painting. I've heard that some of these
fellows who draw for the comic papers----"
Mrs. Archie nipped me in the bud.
"How can you suggest such a thing, Mr. Pepper? A man with Archie's
genius! I know the public is not educated up to his work, but it is
only a question of time. Archie suffers, like all pioneers, from being
ahead of his generation. But, thank Heaven, he need not sully his
genius by stooping----"
"No, no," I said. "Sorry. I only suggested it."
After that I gave more time than ever to trying to think of a solution.
Sometimes I would lie awake at night, and my manner towards
Wilberforce, my man, became so distrait that it almost caused a rift.
He asked me one morning which suit I would wear that day, and, by Jove,
I said, "Oh, any of them. I don't mind." There was a most frightful
silence, and I woke up to find him looking at me with such a dashed
wounded expression in his eyes that I had to tip him a couple of quid
to bring him round again.


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