'Yes. He came to spend the day with some pals of his who own the house.'
'I see. It sounded like a miracle at first. Have you been talking to him?'
'Yes.'
She looked down and slid her foot about on the concrete road. Her air was that of one who would have kicked a stone, if there had been a stone to kick.
'Did he tell you —?*
'Yes.'
'Oh, so you know about that, too?' She laughed, though not too bobbishly. 'Well, you were right just now when you said that much can happen in two days, Reggie. Since I saw you at that party, I've broken my engagement and lost a couple of jobs.'
'So I hear.' I hesitated. 'You're a bit up against it, Ann, aren't you?'
'Yes, a little.'
'Any money?'
'Not much.'
'And no job in prospect?' 'Not a very dazzling one, anyway.' 'What are you going to do?' 'Oh, I'll be all right.'
I passed a finger round the inside of my collar. Something told me it was no good, but I had a pop at it. 'You wouldn't consider marrying me, would you?' 'No.'
'I thought not,' 'Why?'
'Oh, I just thought you wouldn't.'
'Well, you were right. I don't like charity.'
'What do you mean, charity?'
'I mean what you are offering me. "Cophetua swore a royal oath - 'This beggar maid shall be my queen.' " If I'd been there I'd have said: "Oh, yeah?" '
'I don't know what you're talking about.'
'Oh, yes, you do, Reggie. You haven't changed. I told you, you had a heart of gold, and you're just the same sweet old thing you always were. You're sorry for me.'
'Nothing of the kind.'
'Oh, yes. And don't think I don't appreciate it. It's dear of you, and just like you. But the pride of the Bannisters is something frightful. No, I won't marry you, Reggie - bless you all the same and thanks for asking me.'
She gave herself a little shake, like a dog coming out of a pond. It was as if she were chucking off her all this rot of marrying me. 'Well, that's that!' the shake seemed to say.
She turned to other topics.
'Did you say Joey was in the kitchen?'
'He was heading that way when I saw him last.'
'I'd better go and tell him there will be some delay before his car arrives, or he may be worrying. Not that I can imagine anything capable of worrying young Joseph. I wouldn't call him a neurotic child. I'm hiring a car to take him back to his Ohio home, you see, because he has got to get out of these parts quick. Did you read the paper this morning? That interview?'
'Oh, yes.'
'It will finish him on the screen, poor mite.' 'He doesn't seem to mind that much.' 'I'm glad.'
'In fact, he's thoroughly bucked. He wants to get back to his mother. She cooks fried chicken, southern style.'
'I know. He's often told me about it. Well, he can start as soon as the car comes. The garage people are tuning it up.' She gave a little sigh. 'I shall miss old Joseph. It's a nuisance when people go out of your life, isn't it?'
'And when they come back, what?'
She gave me a queer look.
'Well, it's ... upsetting sometimes. Funny our meeting again like this, Reggie.' 'Dashed droll.'
'I didn't mean quite that—Well, good-bye.'
She broke off rather abruptly and shoved her hand out. And here, of course, if I had wanted to, was an admirable opportunity of grabbing her wrist and glaring into her eyes and making my chest heave, as the Cooley kid had advised. But I let it go. Quite possibly he was right in claiming that this procedure would bring home the bacon - nobody could say he was not an intelligent child - but I gave it a miss. A ghastly, dull, grey, hopeless sort of feeling had come over me.
'Good-bye,' I said.
She uttered a little choking cry.
'Reggie!'
She was staring at me, her breath coming jerkily. I couldn't imagine why. I squinted down at my waistcoat. It seemed all right. I took a look at my legs. The trousers seemed all right. So did the socks. And the shoes.
'Reggie! What is that on your head?'
Well, it wasn't my hat, because I hadn't got one on. I put up my hand and felt.
'Why, hullo!' I said. 'Blood, by Jove!'
She was pointing at the ditch. A bit on the distraught side it seemed to me.
'What is that?'
I took a dekko.
'Oh, that? That's what's left of a motor-bicyle.' 'Yours?'
'Well, I was riding on it.' 'You - you had an accident?' 'A bit of a spill, yes.'
A sort of greenish pallor had spread over her map. Her eyes were goggling, and she was having trouble with the vocal cords. She clucked like a hen and came groping at me with her hands out in a blind sort of way.
'Oh, Reggie, darling! You might have been killed, Reggie darling! You might have been killed! You might have been killed!'
And here she buried her face in her hands and broke into what I believe are called uncontrollable sobs.
I was stunned - (a) by her words, (b) by her behaviour. Neither seemed, as it were, to check up with her recent attitude.
'Did you say "Darling"?' I said, groping.
She raised her face. It was still greenish, but her eyes were shining like . . . well, more like twin stars than anything I can think of.
'Of course I said "darling".'
I continued to grope.
'But you don't love me, do you, by any chance?' 'Of course I love you, you silly ass.' 'But at Cannes you said —' 'Never mind about Cannes.'
'And just now—'
'And never mind about just now.'
I got right down to it.
'But do you mean - I just want to check up my facts -do you mean you will marry me, after all?' 'Of course I'll marry you.' 'Good egg I'
'Do you think I'm going to let you run around loose after this? I don't care if you are just marrying me out of pity and - and charity.'
I said something about pity and charity so crisp and incisive and so wholly unfitted for the delicate ears of woman that even in the midst of her emotion she gave a little startled jump. Then I began to speak.
You've probably had the experience of taking the cork out of a bottle of champagne and seeing the liquid come frothing out. Well, at this juncture it was as if I had been the said bot. and someone had uncorked me. I opened my mouth, and out it all came. I'm not much of a flier at molten eloquence, as a rule, but I managed it now. I cut loose with everything I had. I never paused for a word. I said this and that and so on and so forth, at the same time kissing her a good deal.
And then, right plumb spang in the midst of my ecstasy, if that's the word - at the very moment, in fact, when I was kissing her for the forty-fifth time - a chilling thought intruded - viz., that, now that we had got everything fixed up on this solid basis, she would, of course, expect me to return to Hollywood with her, there to put in train the preparations for the forthcoming nuptials.
Hollywood, mind you, where the police, I presumed, were even now spreading a drag-net and combing the city for me.
How the dickens was I to explain that I must now leave her and push on to Chillicothe, Ohio?
I mean to say, what reason could I give? How could I make plausible this sudden passionate desire to go to Chillicothe, Ohio? It would mean issuing a statement, after all. In which event, she would most certainly think I was looney and break off the match in case it was catching.
And then I saw the way. I must say that I didn't like the idea of a kid of Joey Cooky's tender years going all that way alone. It would sound thin, of course, but ...
I became aware that she was speaking.
'Eh?' I said.
A slight whiffle of impatience escaped her. The old Ann.
'Haven't you been listening?' 'Awfully sorry. My attention wandered a bit.' 'Well, do listen, my precious imbecile fathead, because it's important. It's about young Joseph.' 'Oh, yes?'
'Something has just occurred to me. He's such a child. I don't really think he oug
ht to make that long journey all alone. So —'
My heart gave a leap like a salmon in spawning time.
'You want me to go with him?'
'Would you?'
'Rather!'
The air seemed full of pealing bells. I was saved. No tedious explanations. ... No issuing of statements ... no breaking off of the match on account of lunacy of one of the contracting parties ...
I kissed her a good deal more.
'You're an angel, Reggie,' she said. 'I don't know how many men who would be so unselfish and put themselves out like this.'
'Not at all,' I said. 'Not at all.'
'I think you ought to get away as soon as possible.'
So did I, I kissed her again.
'And then you could come back to Hollywood —' 'No,' I said. 'I'll meet you in New York.' 'Why?' 'I'd rather.'
'Perhaps it would be better.'
'Much better.'
I kissed her again, bringing the total, I should say, about up to the level hundred. Then, hand in hand, we walked down the lane, guided by the scent of frying sausages which told me that Eggy had not overestimated his culinary skill and that little Joey Cooley was busy victualling up against the new day.
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P. G. Wodehouse, Laughing Gas
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