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P G Wodehouse – Piccadilly Jim

A small book fell squashily at Jimmy’s feet. He regarded it dully for a moment. Then, with a wild yell which penetrated even to Mr. Pett’s bedroom and woke that sufferer just as he was dropping off to sleep for the third time that night he bounded for the gallery stairs.

At the further end of the gallery a musical laugh sounded, and a door closed. Ann had gone.

The End

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