Page 309 - Bridget Jones's Diary - by Helen FIELDING

more champagne and he told me all this stuff about how he loved me: the sort of

stuff, to be honest, Daniel was always coming out with.

'Why didn't you ring me up before Christmas, then?' I said suspiciously. 'I left
you two messages.'

'I didn't want to talk to you till I'd finished the job. And I didn't think you liked
me much.'

'What?'.

'Well, you know. You stood me up because you were drying your hair? And
the first time I met you I was wearing that stupid sweater and bumblebee socks
from my aunt and behaved like a complete clod. I thought you thought I was the
most frightful stiff.'

'Well, I did, a bit,' I said, 'But . . . '

'But what. . . ?'

'Don't you mean but pardon?'

Then he took the champagne glass out of my hand, kissed me, and said,
'Right, Bridget Jones, I'm going to give you pardon for,' picked me up in his
arms, carried me off into the bedroom (which had a four-poster bed!) and did all
manner of things which mean whenever I see a diamond-patterned V-neck

sweater in future, I am going to spontaneously combust with shame.

Tuesday 26 December