Lab
Library
Journal
Shop
Sign in
to keep
Share image
1
264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
78
There
was
a
death-where-is-thy-sting-fullness
about
her
manner
which
I
found
distasteful.
It
isn’t
often
that
I
score
off
Jeeves
in
the
devastating
fashion
just
described,
and
when
I
do
I
like
to
see
happy,
smiling
faces
about
me.
“Tails
up,
Aunt
Dahlia,”
I
urged
buoyantly.
“Tails
up
be
dashed,”
was
her
sombre
response.
“I’ve
just
been
talking
to
Tom.”
“Telling
him?”
“No,
listening
to
him.
I
haven’t
had
the
nerve
to
tell
him
yet.”
“Is
he
still
upset
about
that
income-tax
money?”
“Upset
is
right.
He
says
that
Civilisation
is
in
the
melting-pot
and
that
all
thinking
men
can
read
the
writing
on
the
wall.”
“What
wall?”
“Old
Testament,
ass.
Belshazzar’s
feast.”
“Oh,
that,
yes.
I’ve
often
wondered
how
that
gag
was
worked.
With
mirrors,
I
expect.”
“I
wish
I
could
use
mirrors
to
break
it
to
Tom
about
this
baccarat
business.”
I
had
a
word
of
comfort
to
offer
here.
I
had
been
turning
the
thing
over
in
my
mind
since
our
last
meeting,
and
I
thought
I
saw
where
she
had
got
twisted.
Where
she
made
her
error,
it
seemed
to
me,
was
in
feeling
she
had
got
to
tell
Uncle
Tom.
To
my
way
of
thinking,
the
matter
was
one
on
which
it
would
be
better
to
continue
to
exercise
a
quiet
reserve.
“I
don’t
see
why
you
need
mention
that
you
lost
that
money
at
baccarat.”
“What
do
you
suggest,
then?
Letting
Milady’s
Boudoir
join
Civilisation
in
the
melting-pot.
Because
that
is
what
it
will
infallibly
do
unless
I
get
a
cheque
by
next
week.
The
printers
have
been
showing
a
nasty
spirit
for
months.”
Marker
Marker
Fine marker
White-out
Fine white-out
Circle
Paint
Unmarker
Hand
Scalpel
Dice
Sieve
Purify
Undo
Redo
Start over
