Read Online Luck of the Bodkins by P. G. Wodehouse - Free Book Online
Authors: P. G. Wodehouse
Tags: Humour
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has wriggled his way into your affections, if necessary knocking his bally head off. I shall go to him, and I shall first warn him. Should this fail, I shall...'
Gertrude found speech. She had shaken off the hypnotic spell which he had been casting on her. Her face was working and her eyes blazed indignantly, so that Mr Llewellyn, watching her, suffered another moment of discomfort. She reminded him of Grayce, his wife, that time when he had suggested that her brother George might find some more suitable outlet for his talents than the post of Production Expert to the Superba-Llewellyn Corporation.
'You hickaprit! '
This was a new one to Monty.
'Hickaprit?'
'Hypocrite, I mean.'
'Oh, you do, do you?'
He stared at her, outraged.
'What on earth are you talking about? ’
'You know what I'm talking about.'
‘ I don't know what you're talking about.'
'You do know what I'm talking about.'
‘I certainly do not know what you're talking about. And it's my firm belief,' said Monty, 'that you don't know yourself. What do you mean - hypocrite? Where do you get that hypocrite stuff? Why hypocrite?'
Gertrude choked.
'Pretending that you loved me! '
‘I do.'
'You do not.'
‘I tell you I do. Gosh darn it, I ought to know whether I love you or not, oughtn't I?' Then who's Sue?' ·Who's Sue?' ‘Who's Sue?' ‘ Who's Sue?’
'Yes. Who's Sue? Who's Sue? Who's Sue?'
Monty's manner softened. Something of tenderness came into it. Though she had treated him shamefully and had now begun to talk like a cuckoo clock, he loved this girl.
'Listen, old bird,' he said, and there was a touch of appeal in his voice, 'we could go on like this all night. It's like trying to say "She sells sea-shells by the seashore." What exactly is it that you are gibbering about? Tell me, and we'll get the whole thing straightened out. You keep saying "Who's Sue? Who's Sue?" and I don't know any ...' His voice trailed away. An anxious look had come into his eyes. ‘ Yo u don't by any chance mean Sue Brown, do you?'
‘ I don't know what her beastly name is. All I know is that you went off to Cannes pretending to love me, and a week later you had this girl's name tattooed on your chest with a heart round it, and it's no use trying to deny it, because you sent me a photograph of yourself in bathing costume and I had it enlarged and there it was.'
There was a silence. The cave-man Bodkin had ceased to be, and in his place stood the Bodkin of Waterloo Station. Once more Monty was supporting himself on one leg, and that weak and anxious smile was back on his face.
He was blaming himself. It was not as if this was the first time that that heart-encircled 'Sue' had led to trouble. Only a few weeks before, at Blandings Castle, there had been all that difficult explanation to Ronnie Fish on the very same subject, Ronnie had asked awkward questions, and now Gertrude was asking awkward questions. With a good deal of fervour Monty Bodkin was telling himself that if by some miracle he got through this sticky spot successfully, he would obtain washing soda or pumice-stone or vitriol or whatever you used for the eradication of tattoo marks and be done with that 'Sue' for ever, And that went for the heart round it, too.
'Listen,' he said.
‘ I don't want to listen.'
'But you must listen, dash it. You're quite mistaken. ’ 'Mistaken!'
'I mean you're all wrong on a very important point. A vitally important point, I may say. You have fallen into the error of supposing that tattoo mark a recent growth. It's not. The matter is susceptible of a ready explanation. I had it done - like an ass - goodness knows why I ever thought of such a damn' silly thing - three years and more ago, before I had ever met you. ’
‘ Oh?'
'Don't say "Oh?"' begged Monty gently. 'At least, say it if you like, of course, but not with that sort of nasty tinkle in the voice, as if you didn't believe a word I was telling you.'
'I don't believe a word you're telling me. ’
'But it's
Gertrude found speech. She had shaken off the hypnotic spell which he had been casting on her. Her face was working and her eyes blazed indignantly, so that Mr Llewellyn, watching her, suffered another moment of discomfort. She reminded him of Grayce, his wife, that time when he had suggested that her brother George might find some more suitable outlet for his talents than the post of Production Expert to the Superba-Llewellyn Corporation.
'You hickaprit! '
This was a new one to Monty.
'Hickaprit?'
'Hypocrite, I mean.'
'Oh, you do, do you?'
He stared at her, outraged.
'What on earth are you talking about? ’
'You know what I'm talking about.'
‘ I don't know what you're talking about.'
'You do know what I'm talking about.'
‘I certainly do not know what you're talking about. And it's my firm belief,' said Monty, 'that you don't know yourself. What do you mean - hypocrite? Where do you get that hypocrite stuff? Why hypocrite?'
Gertrude choked.
'Pretending that you loved me! '
‘I do.'
'You do not.'
‘I tell you I do. Gosh darn it, I ought to know whether I love you or not, oughtn't I?' Then who's Sue?' ·Who's Sue?' ‘Who's Sue?' ‘ Who's Sue?’
'Yes. Who's Sue? Who's Sue? Who's Sue?'
Monty's manner softened. Something of tenderness came into it. Though she had treated him shamefully and had now begun to talk like a cuckoo clock, he loved this girl.
'Listen, old bird,' he said, and there was a touch of appeal in his voice, 'we could go on like this all night. It's like trying to say "She sells sea-shells by the seashore." What exactly is it that you are gibbering about? Tell me, and we'll get the whole thing straightened out. You keep saying "Who's Sue? Who's Sue?" and I don't know any ...' His voice trailed away. An anxious look had come into his eyes. ‘ Yo u don't by any chance mean Sue Brown, do you?'
‘ I don't know what her beastly name is. All I know is that you went off to Cannes pretending to love me, and a week later you had this girl's name tattooed on your chest with a heart round it, and it's no use trying to deny it, because you sent me a photograph of yourself in bathing costume and I had it enlarged and there it was.'
There was a silence. The cave-man Bodkin had ceased to be, and in his place stood the Bodkin of Waterloo Station. Once more Monty was supporting himself on one leg, and that weak and anxious smile was back on his face.
He was blaming himself. It was not as if this was the first time that that heart-encircled 'Sue' had led to trouble. Only a few weeks before, at Blandings Castle, there had been all that difficult explanation to Ronnie Fish on the very same subject, Ronnie had asked awkward questions, and now Gertrude was asking awkward questions. With a good deal of fervour Monty Bodkin was telling himself that if by some miracle he got through this sticky spot successfully, he would obtain washing soda or pumice-stone or vitriol or whatever you used for the eradication of tattoo marks and be done with that 'Sue' for ever, And that went for the heart round it, too.
'Listen,' he said.
‘ I don't want to listen.'
'But you must listen, dash it. You're quite mistaken. ’ 'Mistaken!'
'I mean you're all wrong on a very important point. A vitally important point, I may say. You have fallen into the error of supposing that tattoo mark a recent growth. It's not. The matter is susceptible of a ready explanation. I had it done - like an ass - goodness knows why I ever thought of such a damn' silly thing - three years and more ago, before I had ever met you. ’
‘ Oh?'
'Don't say "Oh?"' begged Monty gently. 'At least, say it if you like, of course, but not with that sort of nasty tinkle in the voice, as if you didn't believe a word I was telling you.'
'I don't believe a word you're telling me. ’
'But it's
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