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Right Ho, Jeeves | P. G. Wodehouse | |
Chapter 6 |
Page 1 of 7 |
Gussie, on arrival, proved to be still showing traces of his grim experience. The face was pale, the eyes gooseberry-like, the ears drooping, and the whole aspect that of a man who has passed through the furnace and been caught in the machinery. I hitched myself up a bit higher on the pillows and gazed at him narrowly. It was a moment, I could see, when first aid was required, and I prepared to get down to cases. "Well, Gussie." "Hullo, Bertie." "What ho." "What ho." These civilities concluded, I felt that the moment had come to touch delicately on the past. "I hear you've been through it a bit." "Yes." "Thanks to Jeeves." "It wasn't Jeeves's fault." "Entirely Jeeves's fault." "I don't see that. I forgot my money and latchkey----" "And now you'd better forget Jeeves. For you will be interested to hear, Gussie," I said, deeming it best to put him in touch with the position of affairs right away, "that he is no longer handling your little problem." This seemed to slip it across him properly. The jaws fell, the ears drooped more limply. He had been looking like a dead fish. He now looked like a deader fish, one of last year's, cast up on some lonely beach and left there at the mercy of the wind and tides. "What!" "Yes." "You don't mean that Jeeves isn't going to----" "No." |
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Right Ho, Jeeves P. G. Wodehouse |
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