The Little Warrior by P. G. Wodehouse

“I don’t follow.”

“Freddie, my boy, you are a very old friend of Jill’s and I am her uncle. I feel that I can speak plainly to you. Jill is the dearest thing to me in the world. She trusted me, and I failed her. I was responsible for the loss of her money, and my one object in life is to see her by some means or other in a position equal to the one of which I deprived her. If she marries a rich man, well and good. That, provided she marries him because she is fond of him, will be the very best thing that can happen. But if she does not there is another way. It may be possible for me to marry a rich woman.”

Freddie stopped, appalled.

“Good God! You don’t mean — you aren’t thinking of marrying Mrs Peagrim!”

“I wouldn’t have mentioned names, but, as you have guessed — Yes, if the worst comes to the worst, I shall make the supreme sacrifice. Tonight will decide. Goodbye, my boy. I want to look in at my club for a few minutes. Tell Underhill that he has my best wishes.”

“I’ll bet he has!” gasped Freddie.

CHAPTER TWENTY

1.

It is safest for the historian, if he values accuracy, to wait till a thing has happened before writing about it. Otherwise he may commit himself to statements which are not borne out by the actual facts. Mrs Peagrim, recording in advance the success of her party at the Gotham Theatre, had done this. It is true that she was a “radiant and vivacious hostess,” and it is possible, her standard not being very high, that she had “never looked more charming.” But, when, she went on to say that all present were in agreement that they had never spent a more delightful evening, she deceived the public. Uncle Chris, for one; Otis Pilkington, for another, and Freddie Rooke, for a third, were so far from spending a delightful evening that they found it hard to mask their true emotions and keep a smiling face to the world.

Otis Pilkington, indeed, found it impossible, and, ceasing to try, left early. Just twenty minutes after the proceedings had begun, he seized his coat and hat, shot out into the night, made off blindly up Broadway, and walked twice round Central Park before his feet gave out and he allowed himself to be taken back to his apartment in a taxi. He tried to tell himself that this was only what he had expected, but was able to draw no consolation from the fact. He tried to tell himself that Jill might change her mind, but hope refused to stir. Jill had been very kind and very sweet and very regretful, but it was only too manifest that on the question of becoming Mrs Otis Pilkington her mind was made up. She was willing to like him, to be a sister to him, to watch his future progress with considerable interest, but she would not marry him.

One feels sorry for Otis Pilkington in his hour of travail. This was the fifth or sixth time that this sort of thing had happened to him, and he was getting tired of it. If he could have looked into the future—five years almost to a day from that evening—and seen himself walking blushfully down the aisle of St. Thomas’ with Roland Trevis’ sister Angela on his arm, his gloom might have been lightened. More probably, however, it would have been increased. At the moment, Roland Trevis’ sister Angela was fifteen, frivolous, and freckled and, except that he rather disliked her and suspected her—correctly—of laughing at him, amounted to just nil in Mr Pilkington’s life. The idea of linking his lot with hers would have appalled him, enthusiastically though he was in favor of it five years later.

However, Mr Pilkington was unable to look into the future, so his reflections on this night of sorrow were not diverted from Jill. He thought sadly of Jill till two-thirty, when he fell asleep in his chair and dreamed of her. At seven o’clock his Japanese valet, who had been given the night off, returned home, found him, and gave him breakfast. After which, Mr Pilkington went to bed, played three games of solitaire, and slept till dinner-time, when he awoke to take up the burden of life again. He still brooded on the tragedy which had shattered him. Indeed, it was only two weeks later, when at a dance he was introduced to a red-haired girl from Detroit, that he really got over it.

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