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The Clicking of Cuthbert by P. G. (Pelham Grenville) Wodehouse
page 63 of 262 (24%)
"Gargling?"

"I thought so at first. But he reassured me. He was merely speaking in
one of the lesser-known dialects of the Walla-Walla natives of Eastern
Uganda, into which he always drops in moments of great emotion. He soon
recovered sufficiently to give me a rough translation, and then I knew
that he loved me. He kissed me. I kissed him. We kissed each other."

"And where was Mortimer all this while?"

"Indoors, cataloguing his collection of vases."

For a moment, I confess, I was inclined to abandon Mortimer's cause. A
man, I felt, who could stay indoors cataloguing vases while his
_fiancee_ wandered in the moonlight with explorers deserved all
that was coming to him. I overcame the feeling.

"Have you told him?"

"Of course not."

"You don't think it might be of interest to him?"

"How can I tell him? It would break his heart. I am awfully fond of
Mortimer. So is Eddie. We would both die rather than do anything to
hurt him. Eddie is the soul of honour. He agrees with me that Mortimer
must never know."

"Then you aren't going to break off your engagement?"

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