Wodehouse, P. G. (Pelham Grenville), 1881-1975 / 2008-11-23 00:00:00
"I wish Jeeves wouldn't go gassing all over the place. It was supposed to
be confidential."
I could not permit this tone.
"Dishing up the dirt to the young master can scarcely be described as
gassing all over the place," I said, with a touch of rebuke. "Anyway,
there it is. I know all. And I should like to begin," I said, sinking my
personal opinion that the female in question was a sloppy pest in my
desire to buck and encourage, "by saying that Madeline Bassett is a
charming girl. A winner, and just the sort for you."
"You don't know her?"
"Certainly I know her. What beats me is how you ever got in touch. Where
did you meet?"
"She was staying at a place near mine in Lincolnshire the week before
last."
"Yes, but even so. I didn't know you called on the neighbours."
"I don't. I met her out for a walk with her dog. The dog had got a thorn
in its foot, and when she tried to take it out, it snapped at her. So, of
course, I had to rally round."
"You extracted the thorn?"
"Yes."
"And fell in love at first sight?"
"Yes."
"Well, dash it, with a thing like that to give you a send-off, why didn't
you cash in immediately?"
"I hadn't the nerve.
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