"Listen to me, you," said Hamilton Beamish, "and get me right! See? That'll be about all from you about this girl loving you, unless you want me to step across and bust you on the beezer. I love her, see? and she's going to marry me, see? And nobody else, see? And anyone who says different had better notify his friends where he wants his body sent, see? Love you, indeed? A swell chance! I'm the little guy she's going to marry, see? Me!"
And, folding his arms, the thinker paused for a reply. It did not come immediately. George Finch, unused to primitive emotions from this particular quarter, remained completely dumb. It was left for Madame Eulalie to supply comment.
"Jimmy!" she said faintly.
Hamilton Beamish caught her masterfully about the waist. He kissed her eleven times.
(from The Small Bachelor, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
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