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264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
259
I
was
about
to
mount
the
stairs
when
a
sudden
“What
ho!”
from
my
rear
caused
me
to
turn.
Tuppy
was
standing
in
the
hall.
He
had
apparently
been
down
to
the
cellar
for
reinforcements,
for
there
were
a
couple
of
bottles
under
his
arm.
“Hullo,
Bertie,”
he
said.
“You
back?”
He
laughed
amusedly.
“You
look
like
the
Wreck
of
the
Hesperus.
Get
run
over
by
a
steam-roller
or
something?”
At
any
other
time
I
might
have
found
his
coarse
badinage
hard
to
bear.
But
such
was
my
uplifted
mood
that
I
waved
it
aside
and
slipped
him
the
good
news.
“Tuppy,
old
man,
the
Bassett’s
going
to
marry
Gussie
Fink-Nottle.”
“Tough
luck
on
both
of
them,
what?”
“But
don’t
you
understand?
Don’t
you
see
what
this
means?
It
means
that
Angela
is
once
more
out
of
pawn,
and
you
have
only
to
play
your
cards
properly----”
He
bellowed
rollickingly.
I
saw
now
that
he
was
in
the
pink.
As
a
matter
of
fact,
I
had
noticed
something
of
the
sort
directly
I
met
him,
but
had
attributed
it
to
alcoholic
stimulant.
“Good
Lord!
You’re
right
behind
the
times,
Bertie.
Only
to
be
expected,
of
course,
if
you
will
go
riding
bicycles
half
the
night.
Angela
and
I
made
it
up
hours
ago.”
“What?”
“Certainly.
Nothing
but
a
passing
tiff.
All
you
need
in
these
matters
is
a
little
give
and
take,
a
bit
of
reasonableness
on
both
sides.
We
got
together
and
talked
things
over.
She
withdrew
my
double
chin.
I
conceded
her
shark.
Perfectly
simple.
All
done
in
a
couple
of
minutes.”
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