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I am Psmith, one of the Shropshire Psmiths. This is a great moment. Shall we be moving back? We were about to order a second instalment of coffee, to correct the effects of a fatiguing day. Perhaps you would care to join us?" "Sure," said the alleged duke. "This," said Psmith, when they were seated, and the head-waiter had ceased to hover, "is a great meeting.
'I fear, Comrade Jackson, he said, 'that the old noblesse oblige traditions of the Psmiths would not allow me to do that. No. We will stroll gently, after a light lunch, to Trafalgar Square, and hail a taxi. 'Beastly expensive. 'But with what an object! Can any expenditure be called excessive which enables us to hear Comrade Waller being mordant and ironical at the other end?
"Mine is Psmith P-s-m-i-t-h one of the Shropshire Psmiths. The object on the skyline is Comrade Jackson." "Old Spiller," giggled Jellicoe, "is cursing you like anything downstairs. You are chaps! Do you mean to say you simply bagged his study? He's making no end of a row about it." "Spiller's fiery nature is a byword," said Psmith. "What's he going to do?" asked Mike, in his practical way.
"We were having a little tea," said Psmith, "to restore our tissues after our journey. Come in and join us. We keep open house, we Psmiths. Let me introduce you to Comrade Jackson. A stout fellow. Homely in appearance, perhaps, but one of us. I am Psmith. Your own name will doubtless come up in the course of general chitchat over the teacups." "My name's Spiller, and this is my study."
I have a number of little objects of vertu coming down shortly from the old homestead. Pictures, and so on. It will be by no means un-snug when they are up. Meanwhile, I can rough it. We are old campaigners, we Psmiths. Give us a roof, a few comfortable chairs, a sofa or two, half a dozen cushions, and decent meals, and we do not repine. Reverting once more to Comrade Rossiter
"We were having a little tea," said Psmith, "to restore our tissues after our journey. Come in and join us. We keep open house, we Psmiths. Let me introduce you to Comrade Jackson. A stout fellow. Homely in appearance, perhaps, but one of us. I am Psmith. Your own name will doubtless come up in the course of general chit-chat over the tea-cups." "My name's Spiller, and this is my study."
"Mine is Psmith P-s-m-i-t-h one of the Shropshire Psmiths. The object on the skyline is Comrade Jackson." "Old Spiller," giggled Jellicoe, "is cursing you like anything downstairs. You are chaps! Do you mean to say you simply bagged his study? He's making no end of a row about it." "Spiller's fiery nature is a byword," said Psmith. "What's he going to do?" asked Mike, in his practical way.
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