P. G. Wodehouse: Uneasy Money

Chapter 20 (continued)

Mr Pickering did not bolt. Claire came towards him, still smiling that pathetic smile. A thrill permeated Mr Pickering's entire one hundred and ninety-seven pounds, trickling down his spine like hot water and coming out at the soles of his feet. He had forgotten now that he had ever sneered at marriage. It seemed to him now that there was nothing in life to be compared with that beatific state, and that bachelors were mere wild asses of the desert.

Claire came and sat down on the arm of his chair. He moved convulsively, but he stayed where he was.

'Fool!' said Subconscious Self.

Claire took hold of his hand and patted it. He quivered, but remained.

'Ass!' hissed Subconscious Self.

Claire stopped patting his hand and began to stroke it. Mr Pickering breathed heavily.

'Dudley, dear,' said Claire, softly, 'I've been an awful fool, and I'm dreadful, dreadful sorry, and you're going to be the nicest, kindest, sweetest man on earth and tell me you've forgiven me. Aren't you?'

Mr Pickering's lips moved silently. Claire kissed the thinning summit of his head. There was a pause.

'Where is it?' she asked.

Mr Pickering started.

'Eh?'

'Where is it? Where did you put it? The ring, silly!'

Mr Pickering became aware that Subconscious Self was addressing him. The occasion was tense, and Subconscious Self did not mince its words.

'You poor, maudlin, sentimental, doddering chunk of imbecility,' it said; 'are there no limits to your insanity? After all I said to you just now, are you deliberately going to start the old idiocy all over again?'

'She's so beautiful!' pleaded Mr Pickering. 'Look at her eyes!'