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Right Ho, Jeeves | P. G. Wodehouse | |
Chapter 8 |
Page 5 of 6 |
He started violently. "I am not devoted to food!" "No, no." "I am not devoted to food at all." "Quite. All I meant----" "This rot about me being devoted to food," said Tuppy warmly, "has got to stop. I am young and healthy and have a good appetite, but that's not the same as being devoted to food. I admire Anatole as a master of his craft, and am always willing to consider anything he may put before me, but when you say I am devoted to food----" "Quite, quite. All I meant was that if she sees you push away your dinner untasted, she will realize that your heart is aching, and will probably be the first to suggest blowing the all clear." Tuppy was frowning thoughtfully. "Push my dinner away, eh?" "Yes." "Push away a dinner cooked by Anatole?" "Yes." "Push it away untasted?" "Yes." "Let us get this straight. Tonight, at dinner, when the butler offers me a ris de veau à la financière, or whatever it may be, hot from Anatole's hands, you wish me to push it away untasted?" "Yes." He chewed his lip. One could sense the struggle going on within. And then suddenly a sort of glow came into his face. The old martyrs probably used to look like that. "All right." "You'll do it?" "I will." "Fine." |
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Right Ho, Jeeves P. G. Wodehouse |
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