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Wodehouse, P. G. (Pelham Grenville), 1881-1975

"The Man Upstairs and Other Stories"

Since his
advent the days had certainly passed more swiftly for her. The dead
level of monotony had been broken. There was a certain fascination in
exerting herself to suppress him, which increased daily as each attempt
failed.
Mr Vince put this feeling into words for her. He had a maddening habit
of discussing the progress of his courtship in the manner of an
impartial lecturer.
'I am making headway,' he observed. 'The fact that we cannot meet
without your endeavouring to plant a temperamental left jab on my
spiritual solar plexus encourages me to think that you are beginning at
last to understand that we are affinities. To persons of spirit like
ourselves the only happy marriage is that which is based on a firm
foundation of almost incessant quarrelling. The most beautiful line in
English poetry, to my mind, is, "We fell out, my wife and I." You would
be wretched with a husband who didn't like you to quarrel with him. The
position of affairs now is that I have become necessary to you. If I
went out of your life now I should leave an aching void. You would
still have that beautiful punch of yours, and there would be nobody to
exercise it on. You would pine away. From now on matters should, I
think, move rapidly. During the course of the next week I shall
endeavour to propitiate you with gifts.


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