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624 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1974
It was a master. A short, wiry little man with a sharp nose and a general resemblance, both in manner and appearance, to an excitable bullfinch." And "
Mr Downing - for it was no less a celebrity - started, as one who perceives a loathly caterpillar in his salad.
The fact that the snub-nosed Edward was, without exception, the most repulsive small boy he had ever met in this world, where repulsive small boys crowd and jostle one another, did not interfere with is appreciation of the cashier's state of mind.
And now to work. Work, the what's-it's-name of the thingummy and the thing-um-a-bob of the what-d'you-call-it.
It might, he felt, cause Lord Emsworth a momentary pang when he returned to the smoking-room and found that he was a poet short, but what is that in these modern days when poets are so plentiful that it is almost impossible to fling a brick in any public place without damaging some stern young singer. Psmith's view of the matter was that, if Lord Emsworth was bent on associating with poets, there was bound to be another one along in a minute...
Eve bit her lip. She was feeling... that exasperating sense of man's inadequacy which comes to high-spirited girls at moments such as these. To achieve the end for which she had started out that night she would have waded waist-high through a sea of beetles..
I have quoted none of Psmith's conversation which is always entertaining and not a little aggravating. "If only," one broods enviously, "I could talk like that".
'My umbrella, dash it! Where's my umbrella?'
'Ah, there,' said Psmith, and there was a touch of manly regret in his voice, 'you have me. I gave it to a young lady in the street. Where she is at the present moment I could not say.'
The pink youth tottered slightly. 'You gave my umbrella to a girl?'
'A very loose way of describing her. You would not speak of her in that light fashion if you had seen her. Comrade Walderwick, she was wonderful! I am a plain, blunt, rugged man, above the softer emotions as a general thing, but I frankly confess that she stirred a chord in me which is not often stirred. She thrilled my battered old heart, Comrade Walderwick. There is no other word. Thrilled it!'