When Cynthia smiles," said young Bingo, "the skies are blue; the world takes on a roseate hue; birds in the garden trill and sing, and Joy is king of everything, when Cynthia smiles." He coughed, changing gears. "When Cynthia frowns - "
"What the devil are you talking about?"
"I'm reading you my poem. The one I wrote to Cynthia last night. I'll go on, shall I?"
"No!"
"No?"
"No. I haven't had my tea.

Auteur: P.G. Wodehouse

When Cynthia smiles," said young Bingo, "the skies are blue; the world takes on a roseate hue; birds in the garden trill and sing, and Joy is king of everything, when Cynthia smiles." He coughed, changing gears. "When Cynthia frowns - "<br />"What the devil are you talking about?"<br />"I'm reading you my poem. The one I wrote to Cynthia last night. I'll go on, shall I?"<br />"No!"<br />"No?"<br />"No. I haven't had my tea. - P.G. Wodehouse




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