Эротические рассказы

The Essential Works of P. G. Wodehouse. P. G. WodehouseЧитать онлайн книгу.

The Essential Works of P. G. Wodehouse - P. G. Wodehouse


Скачать книгу
complete climb-down.

      "It wouldn't be a bad idea," continued Psmith. "There's nothing like giving in to a man a bit every now and then. It broadens the soul and improves the action of the skin. What seems to have fed up Comrade Adair, to a certain extent, is that Stone apparently led him to understand that you had offered to give him and Robinson places in your village team. You didn't, of course?"

      "Of course not," said Mike indignantly.

      "I told him he didn't know the old noblesse oblige spirit of the Jacksons. I said that you would scorn to tarnish the Jackson escutcheon by not playing the game. My eloquence convinced him. However, to return to the point under discussion, why not?"

      "I don't … What I mean to say …" began Mike.

      "If your trouble is," said Psmith, "that you fear that you may be in unworthy company—"

      "Don't be an ass."

      "—Dismiss it. I am playing."

      Mike stared.

      "You're what? You?"

      "I," said Psmith, breathing on a coat button, and polishing it with his handkerchief.

      "Can you play cricket?"

      "You have discovered," said Psmith, "my secret sorrow."

      "You're rotting."

      "You wrong me, Comrade Jackson."

      "Then why haven't you played?"

      "Why haven't you?"

      "Why didn't you come and play for Lower Borlock, I mean?"

      "The last time I played in a village cricket match I was caught at point by a man in braces. It would have been madness to risk another such shock to my system. My nerves are so exquisitely balanced that a thing of that sort takes years off my life."

      "No, but look here, Smith, bar rotting. Are you really any good at cricket?"

      "Competent judges at Eton gave me to understand so. I was told that this year I should be a certainty for Lord's. But when the cricket season came, where was I? Gone. Gone like some beautiful flower that withers in the night."

      "But you told me you didn't like cricket. You said you only liked watching it."

      "Quite right. I do. But at schools where cricket is compulsory you have to overcome your private prejudices. And in time the thing becomes a habit. Imagine my feelings when I found that I was degenerating, little by little, into a slow left-hand bowler with a swerve. I fought against it, but it was useless, and after a while I gave up the struggle, and drifted with the stream. Last year in a house match"—Psmith's voice took on a deeper tone of melancholy—"I took seven for thirteen in the second innings on a hard wicket. I did think, when I came here, that I had found a haven of rest, but it was not to be. I turn out tomorrow. What Comrade Outwood will say, when he finds that his keenest archaeological disciple has deserted, I hate to think. However …"

      Mike felt as if a young and powerful earthquake had passed. The whole face of his world had undergone a quick change. Here was he, the recalcitrant, wavering on the point of playing for the school, and here was Psmith, the last person whom he would have expected to be a player, stating calmly that he had been in the running for a place in the Eton eleven.

      Then in a flash Mike understood. He was not by nature intuitive, but he read Psmith's mind now. Since the term began, he and Psmith had been acting on precisely similar motives. Just as he had been disappointed of the captaincy of cricket at Wrykyn, so had Psmith been disappointed of his place in the Eton team at Lord's. And they had both worked it off, each in his own way—Mike sullenly, Psmith whimsically, according to their respective natures—on Sedleigh.

      If Psmith, therefore, did not consider it too much of a climb-down to renounce his resolution not to play for Sedleigh, there was nothing to stop Mike doing so, as—at the bottom of his heart—he wanted to do.

      "By Jove," he said, "if you're playing, I'll play. I'll write a note to Adair now. But, I say"—he stopped—"I'm hanged if I'm going to turn out and field before breakfast tomorrow."

      "That's all right. You won't have to. Adair won't be there himself. He's not playing against the M.C.C. He's sprained his wrist."

      Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

      Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

      Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

      Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.

/9j/4AAQSkZJRgABAQAAAQABAAD/2wBDAAMCAgMCAgMDAwMEAwMEBQgFBQQEBQoHBwYIDAoMDAsK CwsNDhIQDQ4RDgsLEBYQERMUFRUVDA8XGBYUGBIUFRT/2wBDAQMEBAUEBQkFBQkUDQsNFBQUFBQU FBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBQUFBT/wAARCAeoBXgDAREA AhEBAxEB/8QAHQAAAwEBAAMBAQAAAAAAAAAAAQIDAAQGBwgJBf/EAGMQAAICAQMCAwUGAwQEBwsA GwECAxEABBIhMUETIlEFBjJhcQcIFCOBkUKhsSRSwfAVM2LRFjRygpLh8RcYJUNzg5Oio7PS0zVT Y7ImN1RkZXSElKS0w+MnKERVVsI2OEV1/8QAGwEBAQEAAwEBAAAAAAAAAAAAAQACAwQFBgf/xAA9 EQADAAIBAwMDAQQJAwQDAAMAARECITEDEkEEUWEFInEyE4GhsRQVMzRCkcHR8CNS4SRDcvFiY4JF UzX/2gAMAwEAAhEDEQA/AOAIok0iyfwihXpWfpyR9Bw1SR0y+z11JjIZSQOmBlYrGllVWkiPh7gS CTXajjwaW4JHJHIZlWvi9MzRXkZQqGJTtL9SayJaiJx6cKNTvVWbda2OM02mYWLVHkXfrIjQ2Bew 65ahRvL4J6pA8E4Qc9gB++SSLLhwpGiloW2jdt7+mENIlo4/F058RQPN0Iya8IzhWtl4Y92tkBCj jpikK/UzNHHDVi7bj65JUXMeQeEFkmND4QemCRcUMUCuqSngjgCsoSj2DZ4kci8NzyayLmjEKo5A 2qOBXOSWh0Q0qRx6aV1qy1cjJPuMYpYpjTBXaFUUbSbvHSF7kKTNGhksLt47YaHyaOGIJC7kM27j +eMRLhCpAJWlpRXUcd7waRJN0oYtrRgKKHy75QScgEenlWl8QtfTLnky9JwMelCuZqHCZcoVir3C pDBL4bOPhPbIklyFvCkkljQCytcZLQOZVI0KLFFChUHnmsuaxWkkaOKMtqC6hQF4PrlEC80mypLq YPMpi29DjqQNvJPwVljSKKYxBSe1DLFIcqk2ih0wWOGyCTxQ6ZRGpETSJJZ51IAC9QBk0kGLrYJn /DrCipu83X0yUgNyJDNthEoK2LB6epwSpq9ozRM8aSbAKNnjEJVQMkWsbUA35KvaMki1lV7DqyVC qgEVxYyXsa/BJgwEjEURx0wM+5kQtLCzAFAnb1xqSkBJtpk2jMkAUABmkNj9eMft9jLWTUOsQJE5 PWTb1rrmUkcvBKOIum4keV+lZQytmMQkOoPAv1XgVjIWnRwqM8Y2CivYZTyPwSXZp9OI4x0cUKv9 MuTKmKiLxxiOR2AG49OMDaUbFXSJqAN3AVuvbjFL3MxMnLGHM0SEWbpq7XktBlupBqOKCIFATfLH +uWh4SBBtk1E5cKFUfoRhVwS5dFZKCbQotvTJQnRpEiTxhGqlwL4GSSpPScGCqFjdk854sjLReNk wollnUclaJNZTyiTraDIFVoAFs/PrWKRPUSG2BA6mhQAB+WGx+AiCpEZlAFEceuKCboGO+KYKou6 4wWkXNgVjjjjiUAEgdTlyKiSQscIIlYNZobRlol5YkqltSq/DQHIGOjO+4vOFiid3Fr2Nc5nSWzb AkagBhRGw8j+mKSYEoovFjj3KFO7i8gSqC4SSaaMgWVq8eC020N4ce6IEC16YQonBX06xiY0Ap5J 64bZRJMqi7thUWKvkY8GlvZGcxyJPZANAkDCoy/JYQoqxfCbGPya0cmlggOnkMvnLOSPTrk+1nHg otl4wg1Q20PJ6dctG1yRACaV2Rd3n4v64pIxWlUXkiijt93mCE7azKSpvgRIY9ZDyw8rDjvjPYEl ktlkRZZ2j2g2KPGPArbhJkMGnCPsB8TnjihhGw1ioOkMbTb9o+Hg5fApLknM6GEBaADdQOuVgPa0 XHhmRaQWFNcZI0QgpYCzgON/YVRy14MY1LZWPTo+qZjSgCuBlEaX6gKvjxxbVFA2SetDKItuEzp/ Cec8Fm5IrCUJKx1jBWFiFA6cDrmi1ywUNQs8aL5Rzu6c5SIP1VFFEcBjTi6q673lDVS0T08QRHLD cd20bh0wBKFSqM8QBFfzOJonNGoifaoW5KFDoLyU8mXZof8ALMjALZ29T3w0zXkjCN+l3GrJHAGM 9jC3jWXXSxymUSHbdVYr0y7VDfJJEVEhX50ABd5JGdGdV0sMx2gMeb7YQn9qZgBKscm0beOoyFbV FaNZPFRgpAa6rtWVm0ZidTKoIvytqqQRXTnJQ0LGyo0/l6HqR0wqZLVAI/7SpUWlD/HHQTdAFBjS qFt6YaH8DlNscpoEFq5xhcIeOLyRk7SdpJIGMRIgI1aBt1KA92Oe+EiBbRhGs2qlRVrijlJslttD +EUCLdkEcAZJCCVPDSUsoAB6DKMHpOgIji1EJZaLpYYjjJ60XlME8SmAbxuKOCQB1yTDJJoo4YtK UVV/LO2xzeSnk0+6OE9OsRhjVl846nteWqGKmKTHWJDJNuAIoUBjqQknW2TMTXBQrnk1kkjLuoUn HgwysoElUDmUjbcVFCK0ySKQARyv+OWqSJrCJfGUndzZJHTnFqGFHUPcEPhKRbN6DjBLRptII2Ik jIADXN/XGlrwAxKREWW7FEDpl8FLGGQQss2xtvUE1hpC9rRooIbiCsDYJPzx0wSmikUXiRv0PmFB R0yiFUAUSzzKwFKK6dcYiTbbFMcY8Ir0B4wSDSGiEcQnYKoDWT88a2SSxrRKCFZWhl2AFeAT3y2t AknMhtwY6iIgsevAy4K24jqkcLw+axt6UOuUFRaJ6aHwdPKTzbVbDtk3VoMMexMMcRfUgkCto6jt ghjbE1Vfh1VECxl6O3/DFQzk3IdbQKSpBryjk5KM5Ic8OnE2mlDUAshr54tJcM48U8sX3IpHzO0f BG0Amv8APyykNJ1wEhji07gruAcDgdecEmTaS2OkEcM7SuOSvA+mQpJNs53AmRGAHDdSMvGzHJeW j4iqo4WsjbAmjiXSwn/xl2byiJLRHRL4kczOgu+gFXzlEYwrTpSXYupUBaFAdMNG/IHKRpNar8YH TrzlNBUqNFAGkjkdRQUjEkt0CMjxkou0K/UDg5SFbwCYpMJoAK8o4AyWgcyuI6DZ4SBeOp4wRpeE S0sKosxNElutYuGcVKVaMyGOgtMbN4Q1zoEgVon
Скачать книгу
Яндекс.Метрика