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264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
153
“What?”
“Engaged
elsewhere.
My
affections.
During
that
sojourn.”
I
had
struck
the
right
note.
He
stopped
sidling.
His
clutching
hand
fell
to
his
side.
“Is
that
true?”
“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.”
“Dash
being
respectful.
I
want
the
facts.
You
deliberately
assert
that
you
loved
that
weird
Gawd-help-us?”
“I
don’t
see
why
you
should
call
her
a
weird
Gawd-help-us,
either.
A
very
charming
and
beautiful
girl.
Odd
in
some
of
her
views
perhaps--one
does
not
quite
see
eye
to
eye
with
her
in
the
matter
of
stars
and
rabbits--but
not
a
weird
Gawd-help-us.”
“Anyway,
you
stick
to
it
that
you
were
in
love
with
her?”
“I
do.”
“It
sounds
thin
to
me,
Wooster,
very
thin.”
I
saw
that
it
would
be
necessary
to
apply
the
finishing
touch.
“I
must
ask
you
to
treat
this
as
entirely
confidential,
Glossop,
but
I
may
as
well
inform
you
that
it
is
not
twenty-four
hours
since
she
turned
me
down.”
“Turned
you
down?”
“Like
a
bedspread.
In
this
very
garden.”
“Twenty-four
hours?”
“Call
it
twenty-five.
So
you
will
readily
see
that
I
can’t
be
the
chap,
if
any,
who
stole
Angela
from
you
at
Cannes.”
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