A thing I've noticed as I've gone through life is that girls never need much of a rason for breaking engagements. It's their first move when anything goes wrong. I remember a fellow named Ponderby at the old Pelican - Legs Ponderby we used to call him - short for Hollow Legs - because of his remarkable capacity for absorbing buttered rum - who got engaged to a girl who did a snake act on the suburban Halls and always took her supporting artists around in a wickerwork basket. And one night, when they were having a bite of supper at the Bodega, a long green member of the troupe got loose and crawled up Legs's leg, and wanting to sell his life dearly he hit it on the nose with a bread stick. He explained to the girl that seeing snakes always affected him profoundly, but she broke the engagement just the same and went off and married a comedy juggler.
(from A Pelican At Blandings, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
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