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A Damsel in Distress

A Damsel in Distress

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CHAPTER 1.CHAPTER 2.CHAPTER 3.CHAPTER 4.CHAPTER 5.CHAPTER 6.CHAPTER 7.CHAPTER 8.CHAPTER 9.CHAPTER 10.CHAPTER 11.CHAPTER 12.CHAPTER 13.CHAPTER 14.CHAPTER 15.CHAPTER 16.CHAPTER 17.CHAPTER 18.CHAPTER 19.CHAPTER 20.CHAPTER 21.CHAPTER 22.CHAPTER 23.CHAPTER 24.CHAPTER 25.CHAPTER 26.CHAPTER 27.
Damsel in Distress, by Pelham GrenvilleWodehouse
Project Gutenberg's A Damsel in Distress, by Pelham Grenville Wodehouse #3 in our series by PelhamGrenville Wodehouse
Damsel in Distress, by Pelham Grenville Wodehouse1
 
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**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971*******These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****Title: A Damsel in DistressAuthor: Pelham Grenville WodehouseRelease Date: June, 2000 [EBook #2233] [This file was last updated on September 6, 2008]Edition: 11Language: EnglishCharacter set encoding: ASCII*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DAMSEL IN DISTRESS ***Etext scanned by Jim Tinsley <jtinsley@pobox.com>[Transcriber's Note for edition 11: in para. 4 of Chapter 19, the word "leafy" has been changed to "leaky"."leafy" was the word used in the printed edition, but was an obvious misprint. Some readers have noted thatother editions have slightly different punctuation, notably some extra commas, and semi-colons where thereare colons in this edition; but the punctuation herein does follow at least one printed text.--jt]A DAMSEL IN DISTRESSby Pelham Grenville Wodehouse
Damsel in Distress, by Pelham Grenville Wodehouse2
 
CHAPTER 1.
Inasmuch as the scene of this story is that historic pile, Belpher Castle, in the county of Hampshire, it wouldbe an agreeable task to open it with a leisurely description of the place, followed by some notes on the historyof the Earls of Marshmoreton, who have owned it since the fifteenth century. Unfortunately, in these days of rush and hurry, a novelist works at a disadvantage. He must leap into the middle of his tale with as little delayas he would employ in boarding a moving tramcar. He must get off the mark with the smooth swiftness of a jack-rabbit surprised while lunching. Otherwise, people throw him aside and go out to picture palaces.I may briefly remark that the present Lord Marshmoreton is a widower of some forty-eight years: that he hastwo children--a son, Percy Wilbraham Marsh, Lord Belpher, who is on the brink of his twenty-first birthday,and a daughter, Lady Patricia Maud Marsh, who is just twenty: that the chatelaine of the castle is LadyCaroline Byng, Lord Marshmoreton's sister, who married the very wealthy colliery owner, Clifford Byng, afew years before his death (which unkind people say she hastened): and that she has a step-son, Reginald.Give me time to mention these few facts and I am done. On the glorious past of the Marshmoretons I will noteven touch.Luckily, the loss to literature is not irreparable. Lord Marshmoreton himself is engaged upon a history of thefamily, which will doubtless be on every bookshelf as soon as his lordship gets it finished. And, as for thecastle and its surroundings, including the model dairy and the amber drawing-room, you may see them foryourself any Thursday, when Belpher is thrown open to the public on payment of a fee of one shilling a head.The money is collected by Keggs the butler, and goes to a worthy local charity. At least, that is the idea. Butthe voice of calumny is never silent, and there exists a school of thought, headed by Albert, the page-boy,which holds that Keggs sticks to these shillings like glue, and adds them to his already considerable savings inthe Farmers' and Merchants' Bank, on the left side of the High Street in Belpher village, next door to theOddfellows' Hall.With regard to this, one can only say that Keggs looks far too much like a particularly saintly bishop toindulge in any such practices. On the other hand, Albert knows Keggs. We must leave the matter open.Of course, appearances are deceptive. Anyone, for instance, who had been standing outside the front entranceof the castle at eleven o'clock on a certain June morning might easily have made a mistake. Such a personwould probably have jumped to the conclusion that the middle-aged lady of a determined cast of countenancewho was standing near the rose-garden, talking to the gardener and watching the young couple strolling on theterrace below, was the mother of the pretty girl, and that she was smiling because the latter had recentlybecome engaged to the tall, pleasant-faced youth at her side.Sherlock Holmes himself might have been misled. One can hear him explaining the thing to Watson in one of those lightning flashes of inductive reasoning of his. "It is the only explanation, my dear Watson. If the ladywere merely complimenting the gardener on his rose-garden, and if her smile were merely caused by theexcellent appearance of that rose-garden, there would be an answering smile on the face of the gardener. But,as you see, he looks morose and gloomy."As a matter of fact, the gardener--that is to say, the stocky, brown-faced man in shirt sleeves and corduroytrousers who was frowning into a can of whale-oil solution--was the Earl of Marshmoreton, and there weretwo reasons for his gloom. He hated to be interrupted while working, and, furthermore, Lady Caroline Byngalways got on his nerves, and never more so than when, as now, she speculated on the possibility of aromance between her step-son Reggie and his lordship's daughter Maud.Only his intimates would have recognized in this curious corduroy-trousered figure the seventh Earl of Marshmoreton. The Lord Marshmoreton who made intermittent appearances in London, who lunched amongbishops at the Athenaeum Club without exciting remark, was a correctly dressed gentleman whom no one
CHAPTER 1.3

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