Right Ho, Jeeves

“They didn’t throw eggs, or anything?” “Not a thing.” He expelled a deep breath, and for a space stood staring in silence at a passing slug. “Well,” he said, at length, “it may be all right. Possibly I am letting the thing prey on my mind too much. I may be wrong in supposing it the fate that is worse than death. But I’ll tell you this much: the prospect of that prize-giving on the thirty-first of this month has been turning my existence into a nightmare. I haven’t been able to sleep or think or eat ... By the way, that reminds me. You never explained that cipher telegram about the sausages and ham.” “It wasn’t a cipher telegram. I wanted you to go light on the food, so that she would realize you were in love.” He laughed hollowly. “I see. Well, I’ve been doing that, all right.” “Yes, I was noticing at dinner. Splendid.” “I don’t see what’s splendid about it. It’s not going to get me anywhere. I shall never be able to ask her to marry me. I couldn’t find nerve to do that if I lived on wafer biscuits for the rest of my life.” “But, dash it, Gussie. In these romantic surroundings. I should have thought the whispering trees alone----” “I don’t care what you would have thought. I can’t do it.” “Oh, come!” “I can’t. She seems so aloof, so remote.” “She doesn’t.” “Yes, she does. Especially when you see her sideways. Have you seen her sideways, Bertie? That cold, pure profile. It just takes all the heart out of one.”