The air was full of that electrical thrill that precedes the knock-out. And the next moment it came. But it was not Lloyd Thomas who delivered it. From some mysterious reservoir of vitality Wilberforce Billson, the pride of Bermundsey, who an instant before had been reeling under his antagonist's blows like a stricken hulk before a hurricane, produced that one last punch that wins battles. Up it came, whizzing straight to its mark, a stupendous, miraculous uppercut which lurched forward to complete his task. It was the last word. Anything milder Llunindnno's favourite son might have borne with fortitude, for his was a teak-like frame impervious to most things short of dynamite; but this was final. It left no avenue for argument or evasion. Lloyd Thomas spun round once in a complete circle, droped his hands, and sank slowly to the ground.
(from "The Exit of Battling Billson, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
No comments:
Post a Comment