"You may have reason to change your
opinion of what constitutes--"
His voice failed as his eye fell on the all-black toe of the shoe. He
looked up, and caught Psmith's benevolent gaze. He straightened himself
and brushed a bead of perspiration from his face with the back of his
hand. Unfortunately, he used the sooty hand, and the result was that he
looked like a chimney sweep at work.
"Did--you--put--that--shoe--there, Smith?" he asked slowly.
"Yes, sir."
"Then what did you _MEAN_ by putting it there?" roared Mr. Downing.
"Animal spirits, sir," said Psmith.
"WHAT?"
"Animal spirits, sir."
What Mr. Downing would have replied to this one cannot tell, though one
can guess roughly. For, just as he was opening his mouth, Mr. Outwood,
catching sight of his soot-covered countenance, intervened.
"My dear Downing," he said, "your face. It is positively covered with
soot, positively. You must come and wash it. You are quite black. Really
you present a most curious appearance, most. Let me show you the way
to my room."
In all times of storm and tribulation there comes a breaking point, a
point where the spirit definitely refuses to battle any longer against
the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.
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