P. G. Wodehouse

“ Winfield."
As she paused Mr. Penway felt it incumbent upon him to speak again.
"Dear old Kirk," he mumbled.
"Nothing of the kind," said Mrs. Porter sharply. "Mr. Winfield is a scoundrel of the worst type, and if you are as intimate a friend of his as your words imply, it does not argue well for your respectability."
Mr. Penway opened his mouth feebly and closed it again. Having closed it, he reopened it and allowed it to remain ajar, as it were. It was his idea of being conciliatory.
"Tell me." Mr. Penway started violently. "Tell me, when did you last see Mr. Winfield?" ”

“ Besides, Keggs disliked Mrs. Porter, and the pleasure of the prospect of giving her a shock left no room for other thoughts.
It was nearly seven o'clock when Mrs. Porter reached the house. She was a little tired from the journey, but in high good humour. She had had a thoroughly satisfactory interview with her publishers—satisfactory, that is to say, to herself; the publishers had other views.
"Is Mrs. Winfield in?" she asked Keggs as he admitted her.
Ruth was always sympathetic about her guerrilla warfare with the publishers. ”

“ A latent conviction as to the immorality of all artists, which had been one of the maxims of her late mother, sprang into life. She blamed herself for having allowed a nurse of such undeniable physical attractions to become a member of the household. ”

“ Porter. She had a just confidence in her powers of cross-examination.
She went to the telephone and called up the garage where Ruth's automobiles were housed. Her plan of action was now complete. If no information were forthcoming at the studio, she would endeavour to find out where Kirk had hired the car in which he had taken Mamie away. He would probably have secured it from some garage near by. But this detective work would be a last resource. Like a good general, she did not admit of the possibility of failing in her first attack. ”

“ Penway's moral code was of the easiest description. His sympathies were entirely with Kirk. Fortified by the Bourbon, he set himself resolutely to the task of lying whole-heartedly on behalf of his absent friend.
"No," he said firmly.
"No!" exclaimed Mrs. Porter.
"No," repeated Mr. Penway with iron resolution. "No young woman. No young woman whatsoever. I noticed it particularly, because I thought it strange, don't you know—what I mean is, don't you know, strange there shouldn't be!"
How tragic is a man's fruitless fight on behalf of a friend! For one short instant Mrs. Porter allowed Mr. ”