Right Ho, Jeeves

My heart sank. Could Aunt Dahlia have slept on it and changed her mind? Could Gussie, unable to face the ordeal confronting him, have legged it during the night down a water-pipe? With these speculations racing through the bean, I tore open the envelope And as I noted contents I uttered a startled yip. “Sir?” said Jeeves, pausing at the door. I read the thing again. Yes, I had got the gist all right. No, I had not been deceived in the substance. “Jeeves,” I said, “do you know what?” “No, sir.” “You know my cousin Angela?” “Yes, sir.” “You know young Tuppy Glossop?” “Yes, sir.” “They’ve broken off their engagement.” “I am sorry to hear that, sir.” “I have here a communication from Aunt Dahlia, specifically stating this. I wonder what the row was about.” “I could not say, sir.” “Of course you couldn’t. Don’t be an ass, Jeeves.” “No, sir.” I brooded. I was deeply moved. “Well, this means that we shall have to go down to Brinkley today. Aunt Dahlia is obviously all of a twitter, and my place is by her side. You had better pack this morning, and catch that 12.45 train with the luggage. I have a lunch engagement, so will follow in the car.” “Very good, sir.” I brooded some more. “I must say this has come as a great shock to me, Jeeves.” “No doubt, sir.” “A very great shock. Angela and Tuppy.... Tut, tut! Why, they seemed like the paper on the wall. Life is full of sadness, Jeeves.”