I could tell my story in two words—the two words "I drank." But I was not always a drinker. This is the story of my downfall—and of my rise—for through the influence of a good woman,
In his Sunday suit (with ten shillings in specie in the right-hand trouser pocket) and a brand-new bowler hat, the youngest of the Shearnes, Thomas Beauchamp Algernon,
The man in the corner had been trying to worry me into a conversation for some time. He had asked me if I objected to having the window open.
The annual inter-house football cup at St Austin's lay between Dacre's, who were the holders, and Merevale's, who had been runner-up in the previous year,
The house cricket cup at Wrykyn has found itself on some strange mantelpieces in its time. New talent has a way of cropping up in the house matches.
The attitude of Philip St H. Harrison, of Merevale's House, towards his fellow-man was outwardly one of genial and even sympathetic toleration.
"Sylvia!" "Yes, papa." "That infernal dog of yours——" "Oh, papa!" "Yes, that infernal dog of yours has been at my carnations again!" Colonel Reynolds, V.C., glared sternly across the table at Miss Sylvia Reynolds,
It was Walkinshaw's affair from the first. Grey, the captain of the St Austin's Fifteen, was in the infirmary nursing a bad knee.
"'Morning, Jeeves," I said. "Good morning, sir," said Jeeves. He put the good old cup of tea softly on the table by my bed, and I took a refreshing sip. Just right, as usual.