P. G. Wodehouse

“ Jimmy leaned forward.
“Molly——”
“I wonder if poor Mr. Wesson got indoors before it began. I do hope he did.”
Jimmy sat back again. He scowled. Every man is liable on occasion to behave like a sulky schoolboy. Jimmy did so.
“You seem to spend most of your time thinking about Wesson,” he said savagely.
Molly had begun to hum a tune to herself as she watched the rain. She stopped. A profound and ghastly silence brooded over the canoe.
“Molly,” said Jimmy at last, “I'm sorry.” ”

“ Mr. Wesson had started now to leave the stricken field. There was a reproachful look about his back which harassed Molly's sensitive conscience. Jimmy, on the other hand—men being of coarser fibre than women, especially as to the conscience—appeared in no way distressed at the sight.
“You oughtn't to have done it, Jimmy,” said Molly.
“I had to. There seemed to be no other way of ever getting you by yourself for five minutes at a stretch. You're always in the middle of a crowd nowadays.” ”

“ CHAPTER XI. “The man who lays a hand upon a woman,” said Jimmy, paddling strongly, “save in the way of kindness—— I'm very sorry, Molly, but you didn't seem able to make up your mind. You aren't angry, are you?” ”