"Пэлем Грэнвил Вудхауз. Much obliged, Jeeves (Премного обязан, Дживс; англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

know, is that you're liable, if not an adagio dancer, to trip over
your feet, and this was what I proceeded to do. My left shoe got
all mixed up with my right ankle, I tottered, swayed, and after a
brief pause came down like some noble tree beneath the woodman's
axe, and I was sitting there lost in a maze of numbing thoughts,
when an unseen hand attached itself to my arm and jerked me back to
safety. The taxi went on and turned the corner.
Well, of course the first thing the man of sensibility does on
these occasions is to thank his brave preserver. I turned to do
this, and blow me tight if the b.p. wasn't Jeeves. Came as a
complete surprise. I couldn't think what he was doing there, and
for an instant the idea occurred to me that this might be his
astral body.
'Jeeves!' I ejaculated. I'm pretty sure that's the word.
Anyway, I'll risk it.
'Good afternoon, sir. I trust you are not too discommoded. That
was a somewhat narrow squeak.'
'It was indeed. I don't say my whole life passed before me, but
a considerable chunk of it did. But for you -'
'Not at all, sir.'
'Yes, you and you only saved me from appearing in tomorrow's
obituary column.'
'A pleasure, sir.'
'It's amazing how you always turn up at the crucial moment,
like the United States Marines. I remember how you did when A. B.
Filmer and I were having our altercation with that swan, and there
were other occasions too numerous to mention. Well, you will
certainly get a rave notice in my prayers next time I make them.
But how do you happen to be in these parts? Where are we, by the
way?'
'This is Curzon Street, sir.'
'Of course. I'd have known that if I hadn't been musing.'
'You were musing, sir?'
'Deeply. I'll tell you about it later. This is where your club
is, isn't it?'
'Yes, sir, just round the corner. In your absence and having
completed the packing, I decided to lunch there.'
'Thank heaven you did. If you hadn't, I'd have been ... what's
that gag of yours? Something about wheels.'
'Less than the dust beneath thy chariot wheels, sir.'
'Or, rather, the cabby's chariot wheels. Why are you looking at
me with such a searching eye, Jeeves?'
'I was thinking that your misadventure had left you somewhat
dishevelled, sir. If I might suggest it, I think we should repair
to the Junior Ganymede now.'
'I see what you mean. You would give me a wash and brush-up?'
'Just so, sir.'
'And perhaps a whisky-and-soda?'
'Certainly, sir.'
'I need one sorely. Ginger's practically on the waggon, so