“Bless my soul, yes!” said his lordship, coming out from under the influence with a start.
Even then he could not bring himself to dash abruptly8 from the shop. Twice he reached the door and twice pottered back to sniff9 at flowers and say something he had forgotten to mention about the Stronger Growing Clematis. Finally, however, with one last, longing10, lingering look behind, he tore himself away and trotted11 back across the road.
Arrived in the lower smoking-room, he stood in the doorway12 for a moment, peering. The place had been a blur13 to him when he had left it, but he remembered[p. 106] that he had been sitting in the middle window and, as there were only two seats by the window, that tall, dark young man in one of them must be the guest he had deserted14. That he could be a changeling never occurred to Lord Emsworth. So pleasantly had the time passed in the shop across the way that he had the impression that he had only been gone a couple of minutes or so. He made his way to where the young man sat. A vague idea came into his head that the other had grown a bit in his absence, but it passed.
It was plain to Psmith that the other was under a misapprehension, and a really nice-minded young man would no doubt have put the matter right at once. The fact that it never for a single instant occurred to Psmith to do so was due, no doubt, to some innate16 defect in his character. He was essentially17 a young man who took life as it came, and the more inconsequently it came the better he liked it. Presently, he reflected, it would become necessary for him to make some excuse and steal quietly out of the other’s life; but meanwhile the situation seemed to him to present entertaining possibilities.
“Not at all,” he replied graciously. “Not at all.”
“I was afraid for a moment,” said Lord Emsworth, “that you might—quite naturally—be offended.”
“Absurd!”
“Shouldn’t have left you like that. Shocking bad manners. But, my dear fellow, I simply had to pop across the street.”
“Most decidedly,” said Psmith. “Always pop across streets. It is the secret of a happy and successful life.”
Lord Emsworth looked at him a little perplexedly, and wondered if he had caught the last remark correctly. But his mind had never been designed for the purpose[p. 107] of dwelling19 closely on problems for any length of time, and he let it go.
“Beautiful roses that man has,” he observed. “Really an extraordinarily20 fine display.”
“Indeed?” said Psmith.
“Nothing to touch mine, though. I wish, my dear fellow, you could have been down at Blandings at the beginning of the month. My roses were at their best then. It’s too bad you weren’t there to see them.”
“The fault no doubt was mine,” said Psmith.
“Of course you weren’t in England then.”
“Ah! That explains it.”
“Still, I shall have plenty of flowers to show you when you are at Blandings. I expect,” said Lord Emsworth, at last showing a host-like disposition21 to give his guest a belated innings, “I expect you’ll write one of your poems about my gardens, eh?”
Psmith was conscious of a feeling of distinct gratification. Weeks of toil22 among the herrings of Billingsgate had left him with a sort of haunting fear that even in private life there clung to him the miasma23 of the fish market. Yet here was a perfectly24 unprejudiced observer looking squarely at him and mistaking him for a poet—showing that in spite of all he had gone through there must still be something notably25 spiritual and unfishy about his outward appearance.
“Very possibly,” he said. “Very possibly.”
“I suppose you get ideas for your poetry from all sorts of things,” said Lord Emsworth, nobly resisting the temptation to collar the conversation again. He was feeling extremely friendly towards this poet fellow. It was deuced civil of him not to be put out and huffy at being left alone in the smoking-room.
“From practically everything,” said Psmith, “except fish.”
[p. 108]“Fish?”
“I have never written a poem about fish.”
“No?” said Lord Emsworth, again feeling that a pin had worked loose in the machinery26 of the conversation.
“I was once offered a princely sum,” went on Psmith, now floating happily along on the tide of his native exuberance27, “to write a ballad28 for the Fishmonger’s Gazette entitled, ‘Herbert the Turbot.’ But I was firm. I declined.”
“Indeed?” said Lord Emsworth.
“One has one’s self-respect,” said Psmith.
“Oh, decidedly,” said Lord Emsworth.
“It was painful, of course. The editor broke down completely when he realised that my refusal was final. However, I sent him on with a letter of introduction to John Drinkwater, who, I believe, turned him out quite a good little effort on the theme.”
At this moment, when Lord Emsworth was feeling a trifle dizzy, and Psmith, on whom conversation always acted as a mental stimulus29, was on the point of plunging30 even deeper into the agreeable depths of light persiflage31, a waiter approached.
“A lady to see you, your lordship.”
“Eh? Ah, yes, of course, of course. I was expecting her. It is a Miss —— what is the name? Holliday? Halliday. It is a Miss Halliday,” he said in explanation to Psmith, “who is coming down to Blandings to catalogue the library. My secretary, Baxter, told her to call here and see me. If you will excuse me for a moment, my dear fellow?”
“Certainly.”
As Lord Emsworth disappeared, it occurred to Psmith that the moment had arrived for him to get his hat and steal softly out of the other’s life for ever. Only so could confusion and embarrassing explanations be[p. 109] avoided. And it was Psmith’s guiding rule in life always to avoid explanations. It might, he felt, cause Lord Emsworth a momentary32 pang33 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 plentiful34 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 bent35 on associating with poets, there was bound to be another one along in a minute. He was on the point, therefore, of rising, when the laziness induced by a good lunch decided18 him to remain in his comfortable chair for a few minutes longer. He was in one of those moods of rare tranquillity36 which it is rash to break.
He lit another cigarette, and his thoughts, as they had done after the departure of Mr. McTodd, turned dreamily in the direction of the girl he had met at Miss Clarkson’s Employment Bureau. He mused37 upon her with a gentle melancholy38. Sad, he felt, that two obviously kindred spirits like himself and her should meet in the whirl of London life, only to separate again—presumably for ever—simply because the etiquette39 governing those who are created male and female forbids a man to cement a chance acquaintanceship by ascertaining40 the lady’s name and address, asking her to lunch, and swearing eternal friendship. He sighed as he gazed thoughtfully out of the lower smoking-room window. As he had indicated in his conversation with Mr. Walderwick, those blue eyes and that cheerful, friendly face had made a deep impression on him. Who was she? Where did she live? And was he ever to see her again?
He was. Even as he asked himself the question, two figures came down the steps of the club, and paused. One was Lord Emsworth, without his hat. The other—and Psmith’s usually orderly heart gave a spasmodic[p. 110] bound at the sight of her—was the very girl who was occupying his thoughts. There she stood, as blue-eyed, as fair-haired, as indescribably jolly and charming as ever.
Psmith rose from his chair with a vehemence41 almost equal to that recently displayed by Mr. McTodd. It was his intention to add himself immediately to the group. He raced across the room in a manner that drew censorious glances from the local greybeards, many of whom had half a mind to write to the committee about it.
But when he reached the open air the pavement at the foot of the club steps was empty. The girl was just vanishing round the corner into the Strand42, and of Lord Emsworth there was no sign whatever.
By this time, however, Psmith had acquired a useful working knowledge of his lordship’s habits, and he knew where to look. He crossed the street and headed for the florist’s shop.
“Ah, my dear fellow,” said his lordship amiably43, suspending his conversation with the proprietor44 on the subject of delphiniums, “must you be off? Don’t forget that our train leaves Paddington at five sharp. You take your ticket for Market Blandings.”
Psmith had come into the shop merely with the intention of asking his lordship if he happened to know Miss Halliday’s address, but these words opened out such a vista45 of attractive possibilities that he had abandoned this tame programme immediately. He remembered now that among Mr. McTodd’s remarks on things in general had been one to the effect that he had received an invitation to visit Blandings Castle—of which invitation he did not propose to avail himself; and he argued that if he had acted as substitute for Mr. McTodd at the club, he might well continue the kindly46 work by officiating for him at Blandings. Looking at the matter altruistically47, he would prevent[p. 111] his kind host much disappointment by taking this course; and, looking at it from a more personal viewpoint, only by going to Blandings could he renew his acquaintance with this girl. Psmith had never been one of those who hang back diffidently when Adventure calls, and he did not hang back now.
“At five sharp,” he said. “I will be there.”
“Capital, my dear fellow,” said his lordship.
“Does Miss Halliday travel with us?”
“Eh? No, she is coming down in a day or two.”
“I shall look forward to meeting her,” said Psmith. He turned to the door, and Lord Emsworth with a farewell beam resumed his conversation with the florist.
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1
florist
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| n.花商；种花者 | |
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ply
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| v.(搬运工等)等候顾客，弯曲 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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informative
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| adj.提供资料的，增进知识的 | |
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languishing
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| a. 衰弱下去的 | |
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remiss
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| adj.不小心的，马虎 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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sniff
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| vi.嗅…味道；抽鼻涕；对嗤之以鼻，蔑视 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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12
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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genially
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| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
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innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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18
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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19
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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miasma
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| n.毒气；不良气氛 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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notably
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| adv.值得注意地，显著地，尤其地，特别地 | |
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machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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exuberance
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| n.丰富；繁荣 | |
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ballad
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| n.歌谣，民谣，流行爱情歌曲 | |
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stimulus
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| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
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plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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31
persiflage
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| n.戏弄；挖苦 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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plentiful
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| adj.富裕的，丰富的 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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tranquillity
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| n. 平静, 安静 | |
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mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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etiquette
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| n.礼仪，礼节；规矩 | |
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ascertaining
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的现在分词 ) | |
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vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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42
strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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43
amiably
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| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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45
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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46
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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47
altruistically
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