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264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
144
-15-
I
gave
him
the
eye.
The
evening
had
begun
to
draw
in
a
bit
by
now
and
the
visibility,
in
consequence,
was
not
so
hot,
but
there
still
remained
ample
light
to
enable
me
to
see
him
clearly.
And
what
I
saw
convinced
me
that
I
should
be
a
lot
easier
in
my
mind
with
a
stout
rustic
bench
between
us.
I
rose,
accordingly,
modelling
my
style
on
that
of
a
rocketing
pheasant,
and
proceeded
to
deposit
myself
on
the
other
side
of
the
object
named.
My
prompt
agility
was
not
without
its
effect.
He
seemed
somewhat
taken
aback.
He
came
to
a
halt,
and,
for
about
the
space
of
time
required
to
allow
a
bead
of
persp.
to
trickle
from
the
top
of
the
brow
to
the
tip
of
the
nose,
stood
gazing
at
me
in
silence.
“So!”
he
said
at
length,
and
it
came
as
a
complete
surprise
to
me
that
fellows
ever
really
do
say
“So!”
I
had
always
thought
it
was
just
a
thing
you
read
in
books.
Like
“Quotha!”
I
mean
to
say,
or
“Odds
bodikins!”
or
even
“Eh,
ba
goom!”
Still,
there
it
was.
Quaint
or
not
quaint,
bizarre
or
not
bizarre,
he
had
said
“So!”
and
it
was
up
to
me
to
cope
with
the
situation
on
those
lines.
It
would
have
been
a
duller
man
than
Bertram
Wooster
who
had
failed
to
note
that
the
dear
old
chap
was
a
bit
steamed
up.
Whether
his
eyes
were
actually
shooting
forth
flame,
I
couldn’t
tell
you,
but
there
appeared
to
me
to
be
a
distinct
incandescence.
For
the
rest,
his
fists
were
clenched,
his
ears
quivering,
and
the
muscles
of
his
jaw
rotating
rhythmically,
as
if
he
were
making
an
early
supper
off
something.
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