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264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
119
And
events
had
shown
that
my
fears
were
well
founded.
Put
to
the
test,
with
nothing
but
orange
juice
inside
him,
he
had
proved
a
complete
bust.
In
a
situation
calling
for
words
of
molten
passion
of
a
nature
calculated
to
go
through
Madeline
Bassett
like
a
red-hot
gimlet
through
half
a
pound
of
butter,
he
had
said
not
a
syllable
that
could
bring
a
blush
to
the
cheek
of
modesty,
merely
delivering
a
well-phrased
but,
in
the
circumstances,
quite
misplaced
lecture
on
newts.
A
romantic
girl
is
not
to
be
won
by
such
tactics.
Obviously,
before
attempting
to
proceed
further,
Augustus
Fink-Nottle
must
be
induced
to
throw
off
the
shackling
inhibitions
of
the
past
and
fuel
up.
It
must
be
a
primed,
confident
Fink-Nottle
who
squared
up
to
the
Bassett
for
Round
No.
2.
Only
so
could
the
Morning
Post
make
its
ten
bob,
or
whatever
it
is,
for
printing
the
announcement
of
the
forthcoming
nuptials.
Having
arrived
at
this
conclusion
I
found
the
rest
easy,
and
by
the
time
Jeeves
brought
me
my
tea
I
had
evolved
a
plan
complete
in
every
detail.
This
I
was
about
to
place
before
him--indeed,
I
had
got
as
far
as
the
preliminary
“I
say,
Jeeves”--when
we
were
interrupted
by
the
arrival
of
Tuppy.
He
came
listlessly
into
the
room,
and
I
was
pained
to
observe
that
a
night’s
rest
had
effected
no
improvement
in
the
unhappy
wreck’s
appearance.
Indeed,
I
should
have
said,
if
anything,
that
he
was
looking
rather
more
moth-eaten
than
when
I
had
seen
him
last.
If
you
can
visualize
a
bulldog
which
has
just
been
kicked
in
the
ribs
and
had
its
dinner
sneaked
by
the
cat,
you
will
have
Hildebrand
Glossop
as
he
now
stood
before
me.
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