Right Ho, Jeeves

“Chasing him?” “All over the place. I want to pull his head off.” “I see. Quite.” “You haven’t seen him, by any chance?” “No.” “Well, if you do, say goodbye to him quickly and put in your order for lilies.... Oh, Jeeves.” “Sir?” I hadn’t heard the door open, but the man was on the spot once more. My private belief, as I think I have mentioned before, is that Jeeves doesn’t have to open doors. He’s like one of those birds in India who bung their astral bodies about--the chaps, I mean, who having gone into thin air in Bombay, reassemble the parts and appear two minutes later in Calcutta. Only some such theory will account for the fact that he’s not there one moment and is there the next. He just seems to float from Spot A to Spot B like some form of gas. “Have you seen Mr. Fink-Nottle, Jeeves?” “No, sir.” “I’m going to murder him.” “Very good, sir.” Tuppy withdrew, banging the door behind him, and I put Jeeves abreast. “Jeeves,” I said, “do you know what? Mr. Fink-Nottle is engaged to my Cousin Angela.” “Indeed, sir?” “Well, how about it? Do you grasp the psychology? Does it make sense? Only a few hours ago he was engaged to Miss Bassett.” “Gentlemen who have been discarded by one young lady are often apt to attach themselves without delay to another, sir. It is what is known as a gesture.” I began to grasp. “I see what you mean. Defiant stuff.”