"Do you know what has happened? That poor ass had gone and got himself engaged to be married to a girl at Clapham!'
"What?"
"Engaged! Girl at Clapham. Clapham Common," added George Tupper, as if in his opinion that made the matter even worse.
"You're joking!'
"I'm not joking," said George peevishly. "Do I look as if I were joking? I met him in Battersea Park with her, and he introduced me. She reminded me," said George Tupper, shivering slightly, for that fearful evening had seared his soul deeply, "of that ghastly female in pink he brought with him the night I gave you two dinner at the Regent Grill - the one who talked at the top of her voice all the time about her aunt's stomach trouble."
Here I think he did Miss Price an injustice. She had struck me during our brief acquaintance as something of a blister, but I had never quite classed her with Battling Billson's Flossie.
(from "No Wedding Bells for Him," by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
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