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Updated: June 23, 2025
Painful for me, of course, but the ordeal didn't last long, for it couldn't have been more than five minutes before he was with us again. Tuppy seemed perturbed. "I say, it's all off." "Why?" "The garage is locked." "Unlock it." "I haven't the key." "Shout, then, and wake Waterbury." "Who's Waterbury?" "The chauffeur, ass. He sleeps over the garage." "But he's gone to the dance at Kingham."
Pausing merely to get a rich hunting-field expletive off her chest, she was out of the room and making for the stairs before I could swallow a sliver of I think banana. And feeling, as I had felt when I got that telegram of hers about Angela and Tuppy, that my place was by her side, I put down my plate and hastened after her, Seppings following at a loping gallop.
Smiling a genial and affectionate smile, and hoping that it wasn't too dark for it to register, I spoke with a jolly cordiality: "Why, hallo, Tuppy. You here?" He said, yes, he was here. "Been here long?" "I have." "Fine. I wanted to see you." "Well, here I am. Come out from behind that bench." "No, thanks, old man. I like leaning on it. It seems to rest the spine."
"Quite official." "Who was she?" "My dear Tuppy, does one bandy a woman's name?" "One does if one doesn't want one's ruddy head pulled off." I saw that it was a special case. "Madeline Bassett," I said. "Who?" "Madeline Bassett." He seemed stunned. "You stand there and tell me you were in love with that Bassett disaster?" "I wouldn't call her 'that Bassett disaster', Tuppy. Not respectful."
I don't know that I can give you a better idea of the state of my feelings than by saying that as I started to cross the hall I was conscious of so profound a benevolence toward all created things that I found myself thinking kindly thoughts even of Jeeves. I was about to mount the stairs when a sudden "What ho!" from my rear caused me to turn. Tuppy was standing in the hall.
Fink-Nottle is in a somewhat inflamed cerebral condition." "That's true. A bit above par at the moment, as it were?" "Exactly, sir." "Well, I'll tell you one thing he'll be in a jolly sight more inflamed cerebral condition if Tuppy gets hold of him.... What's the time?" "Just on eight o'clock, sir." "Then Tuppy has been chasing him for two hours and a half.
He has the most amazing appetite. See, he has practically finished a large steak-and-kidney pie already'." As he spoke these words, a feverish animation swept over Tuppy. His eyes glittered with a strange light, and he thumped the bed violently with his fist, nearly catching me a juicy one on the leg. "That was what hurt, Bertie. That was what stung. I hadn't so much as started on that pie.
But if that is the right word, then that's what her manner was as she ventilated the subject of poor old Tuppy. If you had been able to go simply by the sound of her voice, she might have been a court poet cutting loose about an Oriental monarch, or Gussie Fink-Nottle describing his last consignment of newts.
Do you seriously believe that a trifling disagreement about sharks would make a girl hand a man his hat, if her heart were really his?" "Certainly." It beats me why he couldn't see it. But then poor old Tuppy has never been very hot on the finer shades. He's one of those large, tough, football-playing blokes who lack the more delicate sensibilities, as I've heard Jeeves call them.
At least, I straightened my tie and smiled one of those inscrutable smiles of mine. I then withdrew and went out for a saunter in the garden. And the first chap I ran into was young Tuppy. His brow was furrowed, and he was moodily bunging stones at a flowerpot. I think I have told you before about young Tuppy Glossop.
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