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Updated: May 20, 2025
We did not happen to see eye to eye with regard to my white mess-jacket with the brass buttons and I was compelled to assert my personality. But " "Well, it doesn't matter, anyway. The thing that matters is that you are talking piffle, you poor fish. Jeeves lost his grip? Absurd. Why, I saw him for a moment when he arrived, and his eyes were absolutely glittering with intelligence.
In happier circs., of course, I would have canvassed his views on the matter. But after what had occurred in connection with that mess-jacket, my lips were sealed. "Well, I must think it over." "Yes, sir." "Burnish the brain a bit and endeavour to find the way out." "Yes, sir." "Well, good night, Jeeves." "Good night, sir."
Adair, she is my sister! And she wants to thank you. She's below " He was not allowed to finish. Hemingway had flung him to one side, and was racing down the deck. The detective sprang in pursuit. "One moment, there!" he shouted. But the man in the white mess-jacket barred his way. In the moonlight the detective saw that the alert, bronzed young man was smiling. "That's all right," said Fearing.
I should have mentioned it earlier, but in the evening's disturbance it escaped my memory, I fear I have been remiss, sir." "Yes, Jeeves?" I said, champing contentedly. "In the matter of your mess-jacket, sir." A nameless fear shot through me, causing me to swallow a mouthful of omelette the wrong way.
The coat was cut something like an army mess-jacket and the style suited her. I dare say there are many youthful subalterns, and not the worst-looking too, who resemble Mrs. Fyne in the type of face, in the sunburnt complexion, down to that something alert in bearing. But not many would have had that aspect breathing a readiness to assume any responsibility under Heaven.
Well, be that as it may, it doesn't alter the fact that you've put out the wrong coat. Be so good, Jeeves," I said, indicating with a gesture the gent's ordinary dinner jacket or smoking, as we call it on the Côte d'Azur, which was suspended from the hanger on the knob of the wardrobe, "as to shove that bally black thing in the cupboard and bring out my white mess-jacket with the brass buttons."
Don't say you're going to be less kind to another woman!" She tapped with a reproachful fan the scarlet sleeve of his thin serge mess-jacket, her appraising eye busy with the badges worn on the dark green roll-collar and the miniature medals and star.
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