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Wodehouse, P. G. (Pelham Grenville), 1881-1975

"The Coming of Bill"


"Why, say," explained Steve, "I was only thinking that it takes all
kinds of ivory domes to make a nuttery. I ran across a new brand of
simp this morning. Just before I came to you I'm scheduled to show up
at one of these Astorbilt homes t'other side of the park. First I mix
it with the old man, then son and heir blows in and I attend to him.
"Well, this morning, son acts like he's all worked up. He's one of
these half-portion Willie-boys with Chippendale legs, but he throws out
a line of talk that would make you wonder if it's safe to let him run
around loose. Says his mind's made up; he's going to thrash a gink
within an inch of his life; going to muss up his features so bad he'll
have to have 'em replanted.
"'Why?' I says. 'Never you mind,' says he. 'Well, who is he?' I asks.
What do you think happens then? He thinks hard for a spell, rolls his
eyes, and says: 'Search me. I've forgotten.' 'Know where he lives?' I
asks him. 'Nope,' he says.
"Can you beat it! Seems to me if I had a kink in my coco that big I'd
phone to an alienist and have myself measured for a strait-jacket. Gee!
You meet all kinds, going around the way I do."
Kirk laughed and lit a cigarette.
"If you want to use the shower, Steve," he said, "you'd better get up
there now. I shan't be ready yet awhile. Then, if this is one of your
energetic mornings and you would care to give me a rub-down----"
"Sure," said Steve obligingly.


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