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I was so darned sorry for poor old Corky that I hadn't the heart to touch my breakfast. I told Jeeves to drink it himself. I was bowled over. Absolutely. It was the limit. I hardly knew what to do. I wanted, of course, to rush down to Washington Square and grip the poor blighter silently by the hand; and then, thinking it over, I hadn't the nerve. Absent treatment seemed the touch.

Time, the great healer, and Nature, adjusting itself, and so on and so forth. There's a lot in it. I know, because in my own case, after a day or two of what you might call prostration, I began to recover. The frightful loss of Jeeves made any thought of pleasure more or less a mockery, but at least I found that I was able to have a dash at enjoying life again.

What I mean is, Florence knew I was going back to Easeby the day after to-morrow, anyway; so why the hurry call? Something must have happened, of course; but I couldn't see what on earth it could be. "Jeeves," I said, "we shall be going down to Easeby this afternoon. Can you manage it?" "Certainly, sir." "You can get your packing done and all that?" "Without any difficulty, sir.

What I intended to say, since you press me, was that the action which you propose does seem to me somewhat injudicious." "Injudicious? I don't follow you, Jeeves." "A certain amount of risk would enter into it, in my opinion, sir. It is not always a simple matter to gauge the effect of alcohol on a subject unaccustomed to such stimulant.

"The key of the back door, sir?" "Precisely. The Brinkley Court back-door key." "But it is at the Court, sir." I clicked the tongue, annoyed. "Don't be frivolous, my dear old butler," I said. "I haven't ridden nine miles on a push-bike to listen to you trying to be funny. You've got it in your trousers pocket." "No, sir. I left it with Mr. Jeeves." "You did what?" "Yes, sir. Before I came away.

For until I have had my early cup of tea and have brooded on life for a bit absolutely undisturbed, I'm not much of a lad for the merry chit-chat. So Jeeves very sportingly shot Cyril out into the crisp morning air, and didn't let me know of his existence till he brought his card in with the Bohea. "And what might all this be, Jeeves?" I said, giving the thing the glassy gaze.

On the other hand, this was obviously a cove of rare intelligence, and it would be a comfort in a lot of ways to have him doing the thinking for me. I made up my mind. "All right, Jeeves," I said. "You know! Give the bally thing away to somebody!" He looked down at me like a father gazing tenderly at the wayward child. "Thank you, sir. I gave it to the under-gardener last night.

Bickersteth is doing so well on his own account, he no longer requires pecuniary assistance." "Great Scot, Jeeves! This is awful." "Somewhat disturbing, sir." "I never expected anything like this!" "I confess I scarcely anticipated the contingency myself, sir." "I suppose it bowled the poor blighter over absolutely?" "Mr. Bickersteth appeared somewhat taken aback, sir." My heart bled for Bicky.

"Yes, sir." "In the spring, Jeeves, a livelier iris gleams upon the burnished dove." "So I have been informed, sir." "Right ho! Then bring me my whangee, my yellowest shoes, and the old green Homburg. I'm going into the Park to do pastoral dances."

Tell me of Gussie. How did he make out at the fancy-dress ball?" "He did not arrive at the fancy-dress ball, sir." I looked at him a bit austerely. "Jeeves," I said, "I admit that after that pick-me-up of yours I feel better, but don't try me too high. Don't stand by my sick bed talking absolute rot. We shot Gussie into a cab and he started forth, headed for wherever this fancy-dress ball was.