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Updated: May 11, 2025
And it is proof of my fogged condish that my first words to him were words not of reproach and stern recrimination but of inquiry: "I say, Jeeves!" "Good evening, sir. I was informed that you had returned. I trust you had an enjoyable ride." At any other moment, a crack like that would have woken the fiend in Bertram Wooster. I barely noticed it.
Marcella began to laugh hysterically. It was uncanny how his opinion of her appearance coincided with her own. "Wom' your condish' no damn goo' t' any man!" he mumbled. She went past him, into the room and left him. It was the first time she had made no attempt to soothe and sober him and bring him back.
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