Lab
Library
Journal
Shop
Sign in
to keep
1
264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
21
“She
would,
if
she
were
a
female
newt.”
“But
she
isn’t
a
female
newt.”
“No,
but
suppose
she
was.”
“Well,
if
she
was,
you
wouldn’t
be
in
love
with
her.”
“Yes,
I
would,
if
I
were
a
male
newt.”
A
slight
throbbing
about
the
temples
told
me
that
this
discussion
had
reached
saturation
point.
“Well,
anyway,”
I
said,
“coming
down
to
hard
facts
and
cutting
out
all
this
visionary
stuff
about
vibrating
tails
and
what
not,
the
salient
point
that
emerges
is
that
you
are
booked
to
appear
at
a
fancy-dress
ball.
And
I
tell
you
out
of
my
riper
knowledge
of
fancy-dress
balls,
Gussie,
that
you
won’t
enjoy
yourself.”
“It
isn’t
a
question
of
enjoying
yourself.”
“I
wouldn’t
go.”
“I
must
go.
I
keep
telling
you
she’s
off
to
the
country
tomorrow.”
I
gave
it
up.
“So
be
it,”
I
said.
“Have
it
your
own
way....
Yes,
Jeeves?”
“Mr.
Fink-Nottle’s
cab,
sir.”
“Ah?
The
cab,
eh?...
Your
cab,
Gussie.”
“Oh,
the
cab?
Oh,
right.
Of
course,
yes,
rather....
Thanks,
Jeeves
...
Well,
so
long,
Bertie.”
And
giving
me
the
sort
of
weak
smile
Roman
gladiators
used
to
give
the
Emperor
before
entering
the
arena,
Gussie
trickled
off.
And
I
turned
to
Jeeves.
The
moment
had
arrived
for
putting
him
in
his
place,
and
I
was
all
for
it.
It
was
a
little
difficult
to
know
how
to
begin,
of
course.
I
mean
to
say,
while
firmly
resolved
to
tick
him
off,
I
didn’t
want
to
gash
his
feelings
too
deeply.
Even
when
displaying
the
iron
hand,
we
Woosters
like
to
keep
the
thing
fairly
matey.
Marker
Marker
Fine marker
White-out
Fine white-out
Circle
Paint
Unmarker
Hand
Scalpel
Dice
Sieve
Purify
Undo
Redo
Start over
