“What on earth were you doing at a subscription dance at Camberwell?”
“Your man Jeeves asked me if I would buy a couple of tickets. It was in aid of some charity or other.”
“Jeeves? I didn’t know he went in for that sort of thing.”
“Well, I suppose he has to relax a bit every now and then. Anyway, he was there, swinging a dashed efficient shoe. I hadn’t meant to go at first, but I turned up for a lark. Oh, Bertie, think what I might have missed!”
“What might you have missed?” I asked, the old lemon being slightly clouded.
“Mabel, you chump. If I hadn’t gone I shouldn’t have met Mabel.”
“Oh, ah!”
At this point Bingo fell into a species of trance, and only came out of it to wrap himself round the pie and macaroon.
“Bertie,” he said, “I want your advice.”
“Carry on.”
“At least, not your advice, because that wouldn’t be much good to anybody. I mean, you’re a pretty consummate old ass, aren’t you? Not that I want to hurt your feelings, of course.”
“No, no, I see that.”
“What I wish you would do is to put the whole thing to that fellow Jeeves of yours, and see what he suggests. You’ve often told me that he has helped other pals of yours out of messes. From what you tell me, he’s by way of being the brains of the family.”
“He’s never let me down yet.”