P. G. Wodehouse: Uneasy Money

Chapter 9 (continued)

The petty enmities which life raises to be barriers between man and man and between man and woman vanish once it is revealed to them that they are linked by this great bond. Envy, malice, hatred, and all uncharitableness disappear, and they look into each other's eyes and say 'My brother!'

The effect of Bill's words on Elizabeth was revolutionary. They crashed through her dislike, scattering it like an explosive shell. She had resented this golden young man's presence at the farm. She had thought him in the way. She had objected to his becoming aware that she did such prosaic tasks as cooking and washing-up. But now her whole attitude toward him was changed. She reflected that he was there. He could stay there as long as he liked, the longer the better.

'You have really kept bees?'

'Not actually kept them, worse luck! I couldn't raise the capital. You see, money was a bit tight--'

'I know,' said Elizabeth, sympathetically. 'Money is like that, isn't it?'

'The general impression seemed to be that I should be foolish to try anything so speculative as beekeeping, so it fell through. Some very decent old boys got me another job.'

'What job?'

'Secretary to a club.'

'In London, of course?'

'Yes.'

'And all the time you wanted to be in the country keeping bees!'

Elizabeth could hardly control her voice, her pity was so great.

'I should have liked it,' said Bill, wistfully. 'London's all right, but I love the country. My ambition would be to have a whacking big farm, a sort of ranch, miles away from anywhere--'