The Prince and Betty
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P. G. Wodehouse >> The Prince and Betty
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"No."
"Excellent. I also saw Comrade Brady before I left. He has definitely
got on his match with Jimmy Garvin."
"Good. He'll win."
"The papers seem to think so. _Peaceful Moments_, however, I am
sorry to say, is silent on the subject. It was not like this in the
good old days. How is the paper going now, John? Are the receipts
satisfactory?"
"Pretty fair. Renshaw is rather a marvel in his way. He seems to have
roped in nearly all the old subscribers. They eat out of his hand."
Smith stretched himself.
"These," he said, "are the moments in life to which we look back with
that wistful pleasure. This peaceful scene, John, will remain with me
when I have forgotten that such a man as Spider Reilly ever existed.
These are the real Peaceful Moments."
He closed his eyes. The cigar dropped from his fingers. There was a
long silence.
"Mr. Smith," said Betty.
There was no answer.
"He's asleep," said John. "He had a long journey to-day."
Betty drew her chair closer. From somewhere out in the darkness, from
the direction of the men's quarters, came the soft tinkle of a guitar
and a voice droning a Mexican love-song.
Her hand stole out and found his. They began to talk in whispers.
THE END
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