Summary

Portrait of P. G. Wodehouse P. G. Wodehouse The Prince and Betty — XVII. THE MAN AT THE ASTOR (1912)

To feed on such a night as this in some low-down hostelry on the level of the street, with German waiters breathing heavily down the back of one's neck and two fiddles and a piano hitting up ragtime about three feet from one's tympanum, would be false economy. Here, fanned by cool breezes and surrounded by passably fair women and brave men, one may do a certain amount of tissue-restoring.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of P. G. Wodehouse P. G. Wodehouse The Prince and Betty — XVII. THE MAN AT THE ASTOR (1912)

In their last year at Harvard, Smith and John, assisted by others of a congenial spirit, had published a small but lively magazine devoted to college topics, with such success—from one point of view—that on the appearance of the third number it was suppressed by the authorities.
"You were the life and soul of the Gridiron," went on Smith. "You shall be the life and soul of Peaceful Moments. You have special qualifications for the post. A young man once called at the office of a certain newspaper, and asked for a job.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of P. G. Wodehouse P. G. Wodehouse The Prince and Betty — XVII. THE MAN AT THE ASTOR (1912)

Have you read the Broster Street story? It has hit somebody already. Already some unknown individual is grasping the lemon in his unwilling fingers. And—to remove any diffidence you may still have about lending your sympathetic aid—that was written by no hardened professional, but by our stenographer. She'll be in soon, and I'll introduce you. You'll like her. I do not despair, later on, of securing an epoch-making contribution from Comrade Maloney."
As he spoke, that bulwark of the paper entered in person, bearing an envelope.
"Ah, Comrade Maloney," said Smith.
Source: Wikisource

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