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But this cordial agreement with my remarks I had not foreseen, and it gave me what you might call pause for thought. She proceeded to develop her theme, speaking in ringing, enthusiastic tones, as if she loved the topic. Jeeves could tell you the word I want. I think it's "ecstatic", unless that's the sort of rash you get on your face and have to use ointment for.

And now, I suppose, as the result of this dashed psychology of yours, Aunt Dahlia is so sore with me that it will be years before I can dare to show my face here again years, Jeeves, during which, night after night, Anatole will be cooking those dinners of his " "No, sir. It was to prevent any such contingency that I suggested that you should bicycle to Kingham Manor.

Golly, Jeeves, it's lucky he didn't get at that laced orange juice on top of that, what?" "Extremely, sir." I eyed the jug. Uncle Tom's photograph had fallen into the fender, and it was standing there right out in the open, where Gussie couldn't have helped seeing it. Mercifully, it was empty now. "It was a most prudent act on your part, if I may say so, sir, to dispose of the orange juice."

He just hangs round saying: 'Most disturbing, sir! A fat lot of help that is!" "Well, old lad," I said, "after all, it's far worse for me than it is for you. You've got a comfortable home and Jeeves. And you're saving a lot of money." "Saving money? What do you mean saving money?" "Why, the allowance your aunt was giving you. I suppose she's paying all the expenses now, isn't she?"

"He gave that impression, sir." I sipped the whisky. I was sorry if Bicky was in trouble, but, as a matter of fact, I was rather glad to have something I could discuss freely with Jeeves just then, because things had been a bit strained between us for some time, and it had been rather difficult to hit on anything to talk about that wasn't apt to take a personal turn.

"Jeeves," I said, "may I speak frankly?" "Certainly, sir." "What I have to say may wound you." "Not at all, sir." "Well, then " No wait. Hold the line a minute. I've gone off the rails. I don't know if you have had the same experience, but the snag I always come up against when I'm telling a story is this dashed difficult problem of where to begin it.

The truth of the matter being that he is just a plain, ordinary poop and needs a snootful as badly as ever man did. So no more discussion, Jeeves. My mind is made up. There is only one way of handling this difficult case, and that is the way I have outlined." "Very good, sir." "Right ho, Jeeves. So much for that, then.

I'll go and tell Jeeves." I tottered down the passage to Jeeves's lair. The man was reading the evening paper as if he hadn't a care in the world. "Jeeves," I said, "we want some tea." "Very good, sir." "I say, Jeeves, this is a bit thick, what?" I wanted sympathy, don't you know sympathy and kindness. The old nerve centres had had the deuce of a shock.

As a matter of fact, I was especially bucked just then because the day before I had asserted myself with Jeeves absolutely asserted myself, don't you know. You see, the way things had been going on I was rapidly becoming a dashed serf. The man had jolly well oppressed me. I didn't so much mind when he made me give up one of my new suits, because, Jeeves's judgment about suits is sound.

These civilities concluded, I felt that the moment had come to touch delicately on the past. "I hear you've been through it a bit." "Yes." "Thanks to Jeeves." "It wasn't Jeeves's fault." "Entirely Jeeves's fault." "I don't see that. I forgot my money and latchkey " "And now you'd better forget Jeeves.