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264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
209
“Certainly
not.
My
victory
was
the
outcome
of
the
most
strenuous
and
unremitting
efforts.”
“And
how
about
this
pessimism
we
hear
of?
Are
you
a
pessimist,
Bertie?”
I
could
have
told
her
that
what
was
occurring
in
this
house
was
rapidly
making
me
one,
but
I
said
no,
I
wasn’t.
“That’s
right.
Never
be
a
pessimist.
Everything
is
for
the
best
in
this
best
of
all
possible
worlds.
It’s
a
long
lane
that
has
no
turning.
It’s
always
darkest
before
the
dawn.
Have
patience
and
all
will
come
right.
The
sun
will
shine,
although
the
day’s
a
grey
one....
Try
some
of
this
salad.”
I
followed
her
advice,
but
even
as
I
plied
the
spoon
my
thoughts
were
elsewhere.
I
was
perplexed.
It
may
have
been
the
fact
that
I
had
recently
been
hobnobbing
with
so
many
bowed-down
hearts
that
made
this
cheeriness
of
hers
seem
so
bizarre,
but
bizarre
was
certainly
what
I
found
it.
“I
thought
you
might
have
been
a
trifle
peeved,”
I
said.
“Peeved?”
“By
Gussie’s
manoeuvres
on
the
platform
this
afternoon.
I
confess
that
I
had
rather
expected
the
tapping
foot
and
the
drawn
brow.”
“Nonsense.
What
was
there
to
be
peeved
about?
I
took
the
whole
thing
as
a
great
compliment,
proud
to
feel
that
any
drink
from
my
cellars
could
have
produced
such
a
majestic
jag.
It
restores
one’s
faith
in
post-war
whisky.
Besides,
I
couldn’t
be
peeved
at
anything
tonight.
I
am
like
a
little
child
clapping
its
hands
and
dancing
in
the
sunshine.
For
though
it
has
been
some
time
getting
a
move
on,
Bertie,
the
sun
has
at
last
broken
through
the
clouds.
Ring
out
those
joy
bells.
Anatole
has
withdrawn
his
notice.”
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