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Downing's announcement of Psmith's confession, that Psmith, too, was guiltless, and that the real criminal was Dunster it was this that made him feel that somebody, in the words of an American author, had played a mean trick on him, and substituted for his brain a side order of cauliflower. Why Dunster, of all people? Dunster, who, he remembered dizzily, had left the school at Christmas.
He was not by nature intuitive, but he read Psmith's mind now. Since the term began, he and Psmith had been acting on precisely similar motives. Just as he had been disappointed of the captaincy of cricket at Wrykyn, so had Psmith been disappointed of his place in the Eton team at Lord's.
Psmith's expression was one of pain. "My dear Comrade Jackson," said he, "you wrong me. You make me writhe. I'm surprised at you. I never thought to hear those words from Michael Jackson." "Well, I believe you did, all the same," said Mike obstinately. "And it was jolly good of you, too." Psmith moaned. SEDLEIGH v. The Wrykyn match was three-parts over, and things were going badly for Sedleigh.
It was partly a very excellent dinner and partly the fact that Psmith's flat, though at present in some disorder, was obviously going to be extremely comfortable, that worked the change. But principally it was due to his having found an ally. The gnawing loneliness had gone.
White has given no sanction for the alterations in the paper?" A puzzled look crept into Psmith's face. "I think, Comrade Wilberfloss," he said, "we are talking at cross-purposes. You keep harping on Comrade White and his views and tastes. One would almost imagine that you fancied that Comrade White was the proprietor of this paper." Mr. Wilberfloss stared. B. Henderson Asher stared.
He had a smooth, clean-shaven face, and a cat-like way of moving. As Pugsy had stated in effect, he wore a tail-coat, trousers with a crease which brought a smile of kindly approval to Psmith's face, and patent-leather boots of pronounced shininess. Gloves and a tall hat, which he carried, completed an impressive picture. He moved softly into the room. "I wished to see the editor."
Psmith did not move, but his right hand, as it hung, closed. Another moment and Mr. Parker's chin would be in just the right position for a swift upper-cut. . . This fact appeared suddenly to dawn on Mr. Parker himself. He drew back quickly, and half raised the revolver. Psmith's hand resumed its normal attitude. "Leaving more painful topics," said Psmith, "let us turn to another point.
At first it looked as if they meant to knock off the runs, for Strachan forced the game from the first ball, which was Psmith's, and which he hit into the pavilion. But, at fifteen, Adair bowled him. And when, two runs later, Psmith got the next man stumped, and finished up his over with a c-and-b, Wrykyn decided that it was not good enough.
'I heard from father this morning, resumed Psmith. Mr Bickersdyke lowered his paper and glared at him. 'I don't wish to hear about your father, he snapped. An expression of surprise and pain came over Psmith's face. 'What! he cried. 'You don't mean to say that there is any coolness between my father and you? I am more grieved than I can say.
Outwood's at that moment saw what, if they had but known it, was a most unusual sight, the spectacle of Psmith running. Psmith's usual mode of progression was a dignified walk. He believed in the contemplative style rather than the hustling.
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