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|Right Ho, Jeeves||P. G. Wodehouse|
|Page 6 of 6||
"You would be far better advised to let me see what I can accomplish, Aunt Dahlia."
"For heaven's sake, don't you start butting in. You'll only make matters worse."
"On the contrary, it may interest you to know that while driving here I concentrated deeply on this trouble of Angela's and was successful in formulating a plan, based on the psychology of the individual, which I am proposing to put into effect at an early moment."
"Oh, my God!"
"My knowledge of human nature tells me it will work."
"Bertie," said Aunt Dahlia, and her manner struck me as febrile, "lay off, lay off! For pity's sake, lay off. I know these plans of yours. I suppose you want to shove Angela into the lake and push young Glossop in after her to save her life, or something like that."
"Nothing of the kind."
"It's the sort of thing you would do."
"My scheme is far more subtle. Let me outline it for you."
"I say to myself----"
"But not to me."
"Do listen for a second."
"Right ho, then. I am dumb."
"And have been from a child."
I perceived that little good could result from continuing the discussion. I waved a hand and shrugged a shoulder.
"Very well, Aunt Dahlia," I said, with dignity, "if you don't want to be in on the ground floor, that is your affair. But you are missing an intellectual treat. And, anyway, no matter how much you may behave like the deaf adder of Scripture which, as you are doubtless aware, the more one piped, the less it danced, or words to that effect, I shall carry on as planned. I am extremely fond of Angela, and I shall spare no effort to bring the sunshine back into her heart."
"Bertie, you abysmal chump, I appeal to you once more. Will you please lay off? You'll only make things ten times as bad as they are already."
I remember reading in one of those historical novels once about a chap--a buck he would have been, no doubt, or a macaroni or some such bird as that--who, when people said the wrong thing, merely laughed down from lazy eyelids and flicked a speck of dust from the irreproachable Mechlin lace at his wrists. This was practically what I did now. At least, I straightened my tie and smiled one of those inscrutable smiles of mine. I then withdrew and went out for a saunter in the garden.
And the first chap I ran into was young Tuppy. His brow was furrowed, and he was moodily bunging stones at a flowerpot.
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|Right Ho, Jeeves
P. G. Wodehouse
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