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264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
45
“Push
that
in
at
the
first
post
office
you
pass,”
I
said.
“She
will
find
it
waiting
for
her
on
her
return.”
Gussie
popped
along,
flapping
the
telegram
and
looking
like
a
close-up
of
Joan
Crawford,
and
I
turned
to
Jeeves
and
gave
him
a
précis
of
my
operations.
“Simple,
you
observe,
Jeeves.
Nothing
elaborate.”
“No,
sir.”
“Nothing
far-fetched.
Nothing
strained
or
bizarre.
Just
Nature’s
remedy.”
“Yes,
sir.”
“This
is
the
attack
as
it
should
have
been
delivered.
What
do
you
call
it
when
two
people
of
opposite
sexes
are
bunged
together
in
close
association
in
a
secluded
spot,
meeting
each
other
every
day
and
seeing
a
lot
of
each
other?”
“Is
‘propinquity’
the
word
you
wish,
sir?”
“It
is.
I
stake
everything
on
propinquity,
Jeeves.
Propinquity,
in
my
opinion,
is
what
will
do
the
trick.
At
the
moment,
as
you
are
aware,
Gussie
is
a
mere
jelly
when
in
the
presence.
But
ask
yourself
how
he
will
feel
in
a
week
or
so,
after
he
and
she
have
been
helping
themselves
to
sausages
out
of
the
same
dish
day
after
day
at
the
breakfast
sideboard.
Cutting
the
same
ham,
ladling
out
communal
kidneys
and
bacon--why----”
I
broke
off
abruptly.
I
had
had
one
of
my
ideas.
“Golly,
Jeeves!”
“Sir?”
“Here’s
an
instance
of
how
you
have
to
think
of
everything.
You
heard
me
mention
sausages,
kidneys
and
bacon
and
ham.”
“Yes,
sir.”
“Well,
there
must
be
nothing
of
that.
Fatal.
The
wrong
note
entirely.
Give
me
that
telegraph
form
and
pencil.
I
must
warn
Gussie
without
delay.
What
he’s
got
to
do
is
to
create
in
this
girl’s
mind
the
impression
that
he
is
pining
away
for
love
of
her.
This
cannot
be
done
by
wolfing
sausages.”
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