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264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
143
“It’s
so
nice,
Bertie,
talking
to
somebody
who
really
takes
a
sensible
view
about
this
man
Glossop.
Mother
says
he’s
a
good
chap,
which
is
simply
absurd.
Anybody
can
see
that
he’s
absolutely
impossible.
He’s
conceited
and
opinionative
and
argues
all
the
time,
even
when
he
knows
perfectly
well
that
he’s
talking
through
his
hat,
and
he
smokes
too
much
and
eats
too
much
and
drinks
too
much,
and
I
don’t
like
the
colour
of
his
hair.
Not
that
he’ll
have
any
hair
in
a
year
or
two,
because
he’s
pretty
thin
on
the
top
already,
and
before
he
knows
where
he
is
he’ll
be
as
bald
as
an
egg,
and
he’s
the
last
man
who
can
afford
to
go
bald.
And
I
think
it’s
simply
disgusting,
the
way
he
gorges
all
the
time.
Do
you
know,
I
found
him
in
the
larder
at
one
o’clock
this
morning,
absolutely
wallowing
in
a
steak-and-kidney
pie?
There
was
hardly
any
of
it
left.
And
you
remember
what
an
enormous
dinner
he
had.
Quite
disgusting,
I
call
it.
But
I
can’t
stop
out
here
all
night,
talking
about
men
who
aren’t
worth
wasting
a
word
on
and
haven’t
even
enough
sense
to
tell
sharks
from
flatfish.
I’m
going
in.”
And
gathering
about
her
slim
shoulders
the
shawl
which
she
had
put
on
as
a
protection
against
the
evening
dew,
she
buzzed
off,
leaving
me
alone
in
the
silent
night.
Well,
as
a
matter
of
fact,
not
absolutely
alone,
because
a
few
moments
later
there
was
a
sort
of
upheaval
in
the
bushes
in
front
of
me,
and
Tuppy
emerged.
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