Right Ho, Jeeves

The voice of the Bassett cut in on these mordant reflections: “Bertie.” “Hullo!” Silence. “Hullo!” I said again. No response. Whole thing rather like one of those telephone conversations where you sit at your end of the wire saying: “Hullo! Hullo!” unaware that the party of the second part has gone off to tea. Eventually, however, she came to the surface again: “Bertie, I have something to say to you.” “What?” “I have something to say to you.” “I know. I said ‘What?’” “Oh, I thought you didn’t hear what I said.” “Yes, I heard what you said, all right, but not what you were going to say.” “Oh, I see.” “Right-ho.” So that was straightened out. Nevertheless, instead of proceeding she took time off once more. She stood twisting the fingers and scratching the gravel with her foot. When finally she spoke, it was to deliver an impressive boost: “Bertie, do you read Tennyson?” “Not if I can help.” “You remind me so much of those Knights of the Round Table in the ‘Idylls of the King’.” Of course I had heard of them--Lancelot, Galahad and all that lot, but I didn’t see where the resemblance came in. It seemed to me that she must be thinking of a couple of other fellows. “How do you mean?” “You have such a great heart, such a fine soul. You are so generous, so unselfish, so chivalrous. I have always felt that about you--that you are one of the few really chivalrous men I have ever met.”