Would you like a cup of tea? Jeeves, bring a cup of tea.”
Old Chiswick had sunk into an armchair and was looking about the room.
“Does this luxurious flat belong to my nephew Francis?”
“Absolutely.”
“It must be terribly expensive.”
“Pretty well, of course. Everything costs a lot over here, you know.”
He moaned. Jeeves filtered in with the tea. Old Chiswick took a stab at it to restore his tissues, and nodded.
“A terrible country, Mr. Wooster! A terrible country! Nearly eight shillings for a short cab drive! Iniquitous!”
He took another look round the room. It seemed to fascinate him.
“Have you any idea how much my nephew pays for this flat, Mr. Wooster?”
“About two