P. G. Wodehouse: The Man Upstairs and Other Stories

19. IN ALCALA (continued)

The round, grey eyes fixed him again.

'I shall call you George,' she decided at last.

'Thanks, I wish you would,' said Rutherford.

'George it is, then. You can call me Peggy. Peggy Norton's my name.'

'Thanks, I will.'

'Say, you're English, aren't you?' she said.

'Yes. How did you know?'

'You're so strong on the gratitude thing. It's "Thanks, thanks," all the time. Not that I mind it, George.'

'Thanks. Sorry. I should say, "Oh, you Peggy!"'

She looked at him curiously.

'How d'you like New York, George?'

'Fine--tonight.'

'Been to Coney?'

'Not yet.'

'You should. Say, what do you do, George?'

'What do I do?'

'Cut it out, George! Don't answer back as though we were a vaudeville team doing a cross-talk act. What do you do? When your boss crowds your envelope on to you Saturdays, what's it for?'

'I'm in a bank.'

'Like it?'

'Hate it!'

'Why don't you quit, then?'

'Can't afford to. There's money in being in a bank. Not much, it's true, but what there is of it is good.'