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264
Right Ho, Jeeves
·
P. G. Wodehouse
94
“Talking
of
shedding
tears,”
I
said
firmly,
“it
may
interest
you
to
know
that
there
is
an
aching
heart
in
Brinkley
Court.”
This
held
her.
She
cheesed
the
rabbit
theme.
Her
face,
which
had
been
aglow
with
what
I
supposed
was
a
pretty
animation,
clouded.
She
unshipped
a
sigh
that
sounded
like
the
wind
going
out
of
a
rubber
duck.
“Ah,
yes.
Life
is
very
sad,
isn’t
it?”
“It
is
for
some
people.
This
aching
heart,
for
instance.”
“Those
wistful
eyes
of
hers!
Drenched
irises.
And
they
used
to
dance
like
elves
of
delight.
And
all
through
a
foolish
misunderstanding
about
a
shark.
What
a
tragedy
misunderstandings
are.
That
pretty
romance
broken
and
over
just
because
Mr.
Glossop
would
insist
that
it
was
a
flatfish.”
I
saw
that
she
had
got
the
wires
crossed.
“I’m
not
talking
about
Angela.”
“But
her
heart
is
aching.”
“I
know
it’s
aching.
But
so
is
somebody
else’s.”
She
looked
at
me,
perplexed.
“Somebody
else?
Mr.
Glossop’s,
you
mean?”
“No,
I
don’t.”
“Mrs.
Travers’s?”
The
exquisite
code
of
politeness
of
the
Woosters
prevented
me
clipping
her
one
on
the
ear-hole,
but
I
would
have
given
a
shilling
to
be
able
to
do
it.
There
seemed
to
me
something
deliberately
fat-headed
in
the
way
she
persisted
in
missing
the
gist.
“No,
not
Aunt
Dahlia’s,
either.”
“I’m
sure
she
is
dreadfully
upset.”
“Quite.
But
this
heart
I’m
talking
about
isn’t
aching
because
of
Tuppy’s
row
with
Angela.
It’s
aching
for
a
different
reason
altogether.
I
mean
to
say--dash
it,
you
know
why
hearts
ache!”
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