Right Ho, Jeeves

I sank into a handy chair. I am not a man whom it is easy to discourage, but it seemed to me that things had at last begun to get too complex for Bertram. “Jeeves,” I said, “all this is a bit thick.” “Yes, sir.” “The head rather swims.” “Yes, sir.” “I think you had better leave me, Jeeves. I shall need to devote the very closest thought to the situation which has arisen.” “Very good, sir.” The door closed. I lit a cigarette and began to ponder. -19- Most chaps in my position, I imagine, would have pondered all the rest of the evening without getting a bite, but we Woosters have an uncanny knack of going straight to the heart of things, and I don’t suppose it was much more than ten minutes after I had started pondering before I saw what had to be done. What was needed to straighten matters out, I perceived, was a heart-to-heart talk with Angela. She had caused all the trouble by her mutton-headed behaviour in saying “Yes” instead of “No” when Gussie, in the grip of mixed drinks and cerebral excitement, had suggested teaming up. She must obviously be properly ticked off and made to return him to store. A quarter of an hour later, I had tracked her down to the summer-house in which she was taking a cooler and was seating myself by her side. “Angela,” I said, and if my voice was stern, well, whose wouldn’t have been, “this is all perfect drivel.”