A Damsel in Distress, P. G. Wodehouse [best finance books of all time .txt] 📗

epub:type="chapter bodymatter z3998:fiction"> IV

“Well, that’s that!” said George.

“I’m so much obliged,” said the girl.

“It was a pleasure,” said George.

He was enabled now to get a closer, more leisurely and much more satisfactory view of this distressed damsel than had been his good fortune up to the present. Small details which, when he had first caught sight of her, distance had hidden from his view, now presented themselves. Her eyes, he discovered, which he had supposed brown, were only brown in their general colour-scheme. They were shot with attractive little flecks of gold, matching perfectly the little streaks of gold which the sun, coming out again on one of his flying visits and now shining benignantly once more on the world, revealed in her hair. Her chin was square and determined, but its resoluteness was contradicted by a dimple and by the pleasant good-humour of the mouth; and a further softening of the face was effected by the nose, which seemed to have started out with the intention of being dignified and aristocratic but had defeated its purpose by tilting very slightly at the tip. This was a girl who would take chances, but would take them with a smile and laugh when she lost.

George was but an amateur physiognomist, but he could read what was obvious in the faces he encountered; and the more he looked at this girl, the less he was able to understand the scene which had just occurred. The thing mystified him completely. For all her good-humour, there was an air, a manner, a something capable and defensive, about this girl with which he could not imagine any man venturing to take liberties. The gold-brown eyes, as they met his now, were friendly and smiling, but he could imagine them freezing into a stare baleful enough and haughty enough to quell such a person as the silk-hatted young man with a single glance. Why, then, had that super-fatted individual been able to demoralize her to the extent of flying to the shelter of strange cabs? She was composed enough now, it was true, but it had been quite plain that at the moment when she entered the taxi her nerve had momentarily forsaken her. There were mysteries here, beyond George.

The girl looked steadily at George and George looked steadily at her for the space of perhaps ten seconds. She seemed to George to be summing him up, weighing him. That the inspection proved satisfactory was shown by the fact that at the end of this period she smiled. Then she laughed, a clear pealing laugh which to George was far more musical than the most popular song-hit he had ever written.

“I suppose you are wondering what it’s all about?” she said.

This was precisely what George was wondering most consumedly.

“No, no,” he said. “Not at all. It’s not my business.”

“And of course you’re much too well bred to be inquisitive about other people’s business?”

“Of course I am. What was it all about?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”

“But what am I to say to the cabman?”

“I don’t know. What do men usually say to cabmen?”

“I mean he will feel very hurt if I don’t give him a full explanation of all this. He stooped from his pedestal to make enquiries just now. Condescension like that deserves some recognition.”

“Give him a nice big tip.”

George was reminded of his reason for being in the cab.

“I ought to have asked before,” he said. “Where can I drive you?”

“Oh, I mustn’t steal your cab. Where were you going?”

“I was going back to my hotel. I came out without any money, so I shall have to go there first to get some.”

The girl started.

“What’s the matter?” asked George.

“I’ve lost my purse!”

“Good Lord! Had it much in it?”

“Not very much. But enough to buy a ticket home.”

“Any use asking where that is?”

“None, I’m afraid.”

“I wasn’t going to, of course.”

“Of course not. That’s what I admire so much in you. You aren’t inquisitive.”

George reflected.

“There’s only one thing to be done. You will have to wait in the cab at the hotel, while I go and get some money. Then, if you’ll let me, I can lend you what you require.”

“It’s much too kind of you. Could you manage eleven shillings?”

“Easily. I’ve just had a legacy.”

“Of course, if you think I ought to be economical, I’ll go third-class. That would only be five shillings. Ten-and-six is the first-class fare. So you see the place I want to get to is two hours from London.”

“Well, that’s something to know.”

“But not much, is it?”

“I think I had better lend you a sovereign. Then you’ll be able to buy a lunch-basket.”

“You think of everything. And you’re perfectly right. I shall be starving. But how do you know you will get the money back?”

“I’ll risk it.”

“Well, then, I shall have to be inquisitive and ask your name. Otherwise I shan’t know where to send the money.”

“Oh, there’s no mystery about me. I’m an open book.”

“You needn’t be horrid about it. I can’t help being mysterious.”

“I didn’t mean that.”

“It sounded as if you did. Well, who is my benefactor?”

“My name is George Bevan. I am staying at the Carlton at present.”

“I’ll remember.”

The taxi moved slowly down the Haymarket. The girl laughed.

“Yes?” said George.

“I was only thinking of back there. You know, I haven’t thanked you nearly enough for all you did. You were wonderful.”

“I’m very glad I was able to be of any help.”

“What did happen? You must remember I couldn’t see a thing except your back, and I could only hear indistinctly.”

“Well, it started by a man galloping up and insisting that you had got into the cab. He was a fellow with the appearance of a before-using advertisement of an anti-fat medicine and the manners of a ring-tailed chimpanzee.”

The girl nodded.

“Then it was Percy! I knew I wasn’t mistaken.”

“Percy?”

“That is his name.”

“It would be! I could have betted on it.”

“What happened then?”

“I reasoned with the man, but didn’t seem to soothe him, and finally he made a grab