Read Online Summer Moonshine by P. G. Wodehouse - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: P. G. Wodehouse
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good standing. It is significant, in this connection, to recall that Tubby's brother Joe had spoken of him as a heel, for, as all students of humanity are aware, a heel and a twerp are practically indistinguishable.
He had ceased to prod the bunk and was looking about him at the furnishings of the saloon, which were of a simple austerity which sent a chill down his spine, when Jane's voice brought him out on to the roof.
The sight of him, standing there gleaming in white flannel and the blazer of the dining club to which he had belonged at Oxford, completed the restoration of Jane's peace of mind. Joe was forgotten, and the poisoned dart which Tubby had planted in her bosom ceased to smart. Whatever slight defects of character Adrian Peake may have possessed, he was undeniably ornamental and, gazing at him, she was herself again. She marvelled how anyone, even a Theodore or a Joseph Vanringham, could possibly think him anything but perfect, and attributed their attitude to a sort of mental kink. It was a kink which she had noticed in some of the male guests at the Willoughbys'
during that weekend which had brought him into her life. Men, it appeared, did not much like Adrian, and it showed, she considered, how crass and blind men as a sex were.
'Darling!' she cried.
'Oh, hullo,' said Adrian.
A slight sensation of flatness and disappointment came momentarily to mar Jane's mood of ecstasy. At a reunion like this, she had expected something warmer. It occurred to her that it might be pique at her belated arrival that was causing this lack of effusiveness. Adrian, she knew, was inclined to sulk a little on occasion. He was a ready pouter when things did not go just as he could have wished them to go.
'I'm terribly sorry I couldn't get here earlier, angel,' she said. 'I had to go to London. I've only just got back.'
'Oh, yes?'
'I had a luncheon engagement, and Buck wanted me to see a man for him who had sent him a hundred-pound bill he didn't think he ought to pay.'
This struck Adrian as a little odd. From the houseboat Mignonette an excellent view of Walsingford Hall was to be obtained, and he had been looking at it quite a good deal, thinking how rich its owner must be. The vast, salmon-hued pile offended every artistic instinct in him, and looking at it made him feel as if he were listening to an out-of-tune piano, but it suggested large sums of money in the bank. And he would have supposed that a man of Sir Buckstone Abbott's opulence would simply have tossed a trifling account like that to his secretary and told her to make out a cheque.
Then he reflected that it is always these very rich people who make the greatest fuss over small amounts. He could remember the Princess Dwornitzchek questioning a two-shilling cover
charge with a passionate vehemence which had nearly wrecked one of London's newer night clubs.
'It must have been warm in London,' he said. 'Where did you have lunch?'
'At the Savoy Grill.'
Adrian winced.
'I had mine,' he said with gloom, 'at the Goose and Gander. Gosh!'
'Wasn't it good?'
'Garbage. Have you ever had lunch at the Goose and Gander?'
'No.'
'They give you ham and eggs. And what they do to the ham, to get it that extraordinary blackish-purple colour,' said Adrian, brooding coldly on the past, 'I can't imagine.'
Once more, Jane was conscious of that sensation of flatness. She had been looking forward to this moment for weeks, dreaming of it, counting the minutes to it, and now that it was here, something seemed to have gone wrong with it. She had pictured their conversation, after these weeks of separation, having something of a lyrical quality. This note had not yet been struck.
She fought the insidious feeling of depression gallantly.
'Oh, well, what does all that matter? You're here. That's the great thing. Come on down.'
'All right. Stand clear.'
He jumped with a lissom grace, floating down to her side like something out of the Russian ballet. They walked away, and came
He had ceased to prod the bunk and was looking about him at the furnishings of the saloon, which were of a simple austerity which sent a chill down his spine, when Jane's voice brought him out on to the roof.
The sight of him, standing there gleaming in white flannel and the blazer of the dining club to which he had belonged at Oxford, completed the restoration of Jane's peace of mind. Joe was forgotten, and the poisoned dart which Tubby had planted in her bosom ceased to smart. Whatever slight defects of character Adrian Peake may have possessed, he was undeniably ornamental and, gazing at him, she was herself again. She marvelled how anyone, even a Theodore or a Joseph Vanringham, could possibly think him anything but perfect, and attributed their attitude to a sort of mental kink. It was a kink which she had noticed in some of the male guests at the Willoughbys'
during that weekend which had brought him into her life. Men, it appeared, did not much like Adrian, and it showed, she considered, how crass and blind men as a sex were.
'Darling!' she cried.
'Oh, hullo,' said Adrian.
A slight sensation of flatness and disappointment came momentarily to mar Jane's mood of ecstasy. At a reunion like this, she had expected something warmer. It occurred to her that it might be pique at her belated arrival that was causing this lack of effusiveness. Adrian, she knew, was inclined to sulk a little on occasion. He was a ready pouter when things did not go just as he could have wished them to go.
'I'm terribly sorry I couldn't get here earlier, angel,' she said. 'I had to go to London. I've only just got back.'
'Oh, yes?'
'I had a luncheon engagement, and Buck wanted me to see a man for him who had sent him a hundred-pound bill he didn't think he ought to pay.'
This struck Adrian as a little odd. From the houseboat Mignonette an excellent view of Walsingford Hall was to be obtained, and he had been looking at it quite a good deal, thinking how rich its owner must be. The vast, salmon-hued pile offended every artistic instinct in him, and looking at it made him feel as if he were listening to an out-of-tune piano, but it suggested large sums of money in the bank. And he would have supposed that a man of Sir Buckstone Abbott's opulence would simply have tossed a trifling account like that to his secretary and told her to make out a cheque.
Then he reflected that it is always these very rich people who make the greatest fuss over small amounts. He could remember the Princess Dwornitzchek questioning a two-shilling cover
charge with a passionate vehemence which had nearly wrecked one of London's newer night clubs.
'It must have been warm in London,' he said. 'Where did you have lunch?'
'At the Savoy Grill.'
Adrian winced.
'I had mine,' he said with gloom, 'at the Goose and Gander. Gosh!'
'Wasn't it good?'
'Garbage. Have you ever had lunch at the Goose and Gander?'
'No.'
'They give you ham and eggs. And what they do to the ham, to get it that extraordinary blackish-purple colour,' said Adrian, brooding coldly on the past, 'I can't imagine.'
Once more, Jane was conscious of that sensation of flatness. She had been looking forward to this moment for weeks, dreaming of it, counting the minutes to it, and now that it was here, something seemed to have gone wrong with it. She had pictured their conversation, after these weeks of separation, having something of a lyrical quality. This note had not yet been struck.
She fought the insidious feeling of depression gallantly.
'Oh, well, what does all that matter? You're here. That's the great thing. Come on down.'
'All right. Stand clear.'
He jumped with a lissom grace, floating down to her side like something out of the Russian ballet. They walked away, and came
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