“I’ve placed her, Jeeves. She’s a pal of my Aunt Agatha.”
“Indeed, sir?”
“Yes. I met her at lunch one Sunday before I left London. A very vicious specimen. Writes books. She wrote a book on social conditions in India when she came back from the Durbar.”
“Yes, sir? Pardon me, sir, but not that tie!”
“Eh?”
“Not that tie with the heather-mixture lounge, sir!”
It was a shock to me.
I thought I had quelled the fellow. It was rather a solemn moment.
What I mean is, if I weakened now, all my good work the night before would be thrown away.
I braced myself.
“What’s wrong with this tie? I’ve seen you give it a nasty look before.