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"Yes, madam." "Jeeves," said Aunt Dahlia in a shaking voice, "I am sorry I spoke so abruptly. I was not myself. I might have known that you would not come simply trying to make conversation. Tell us this idea of yours, Jeeves. Join our little group of thinkers and let us hear what you have to say. Make yourself at home, Jeeves, and give us the good word. Can you really get us out of this mess?"
"If you would not mind stepping this way, sir, I think we might be able to carry him in." "Carry him in?" "His lordship is lying on the mat, sir." I went to the front door. The man was right. There was Motty huddled up outside on the floor. He was moaning a bit. "He's had some sort of dashed fit," I said. I took another look. "Jeeves! Someone's been feeding him meat!" "Sir?"
The fact of the matter was that I had about reached the stage where I was prepared to try anything once, however goofy. "Just run through that wheeze again, Jeeves," I said thoughtfully. "I remember thinking it cuckoo, but it may be that I missed some of the finer shades." "Your criticism of it at the time, sir, was that it was too elaborate, but I do not think it is so in reality.
This continued for a while, and then there was a loud pop and the air was full of mangled fragments of their engagement. I'm distracted about it. Thank goodness you've come, Bertie." "Nothing could have kept me away," I replied, touched. "I felt you needed me." "Yes." "Quite." "Or, rather," she said, "not you, of course, but Jeeves. The minute all this happened, I thought of him.
"Later on, perhaps, thank you, sir." "All right. Please yourself. But you're going to get a shock. You remember my friend, Mr. Corcoran?" "Yes, sir." "And the girl who was to slide gracefully into his uncle's esteem by writing the book on birds?" "Perfectly, sir." "Well, she's slid. She's married the uncle." He took it without blinking. You can't rattle Jeeves.
"All I tried to do was to give the little brute a cheerful expression. But, as it worked out, he looks positively dissipated." "Just what I was going to suggest, old man. He looks as if he were in the middle of a colossal spree, and enjoying every minute of it. Don't you think so, Jeeves?" "He has a decidedly inebriated air, sir."
Fink-Nottle to the nameless horrors of a fancy-dress ball for nothing. And this is not the first time this sort of thing has happened. To be quite candid, Jeeves, I have frequently noticed before now a tendency or disposition on your part to become what's the word?" "I could not say, sir." "Eloquent? No, it's not eloquent. Elusive? No, it's not elusive. It's on the tip of my tongue.
And scarcely had I opened the door when I heard voices in the sitting-room, and scarcely had I entered the sitting-room when I found that these proceeded from Jeeves and what appeared at first sight to be the Devil. A closer scrutiny informed me that it was Gussie Fink-Nottle, dressed as Mephistopheles. "What-ho, Gussie," I said.
But on the present occasion, in addition to offending the aesthetic sense, this Glossop seemed to me to be wearing a distinct air of menace, and I found myself wishing that Jeeves wasn't always so dashed tactful.
Now here's something else: You noticed that I said I was going to put this project through tomorrow, and no doubt you wondered why I said tomorrow. Why did I, Jeeves?" "Because you feel that if it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly, sir?" "Partly, Jeeves, but not altogether.
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