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264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
56
Well,
on
the
occasion
referred
to,
Angela
had
just
regained
her
board
after
taking
a
toss,
when
a
great
beastly
shark
came
along
and
cannoned
into
it,
flinging
her
into
the
salty
once
more.
It
took
her
quite
a
bit
of
time
to
get
on
again
and
make
the
motor-boat
chap
realize
what
was
up
and
haul
her
to
safety,
and
during
that
interval
you
can
readily
picture
her
embarrassment.
According
to
Angela,
the
finny
denizen
kept
snapping
at
her
ankles
virtually
without
cessation,
so
that
by
the
time
help
arrived,
she
was
feeling
more
like
a
salted
almond
at
a
public
dinner
than
anything
human.
Very
shaken
the
poor
child
had
been,
I
recall,
and
had
talked
of
nothing
else
for
weeks.
“I
remember
the
whole
incident
vividly,”
I
said.
“But
how
did
that
start
the
trouble?”
“She
was
telling
him
the
story
last
night.”
“Well?”
“Her
eyes
shining
and
her
little
hands
clasped
in
girlish
excitement.”
“No
doubt.”
“And
instead
of
giving
her
the
understanding
and
sympathy
to
which
she
was
entitled,
what
do
you
think
this
blasted
Glossop
did?
He
sat
listening
like
a
lump
of
dough,
as
if
she
had
been
talking
about
the
weather,
and
when
she
had
finished,
he
took
his
cigarette
holder
out
of
his
mouth
and
said,
‘I
expect
it
was
only
a
floating
log’!”
“He
didn’t!”
“He
did.
And
when
Angela
described
how
the
thing
had
jumped
and
snapped
at
her,
he
took
his
cigarette
holder
out
of
his
mouth
again,
and
said,
‘Ah!
Probably
a
flatfish.
Quite
harmless.
No
doubt
it
was
just
trying
to
play.’
Well,
I
mean!
What
would
you
have
done
if
you
had
been
Angela?
She
has
pride,
sensibility,
all
the
natural
feelings
of
a
good
woman.
She
told
him
he
was
an
ass
and
a
fool
and
an
idiot,
and
didn’t
know
what
he
was
talking
about.”
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