but on this particular morning it seemed to me that what I really wanted was some charming girl to buzz up and ask me to save her from assassins or something. So that it was a bit of an anticlimax when I merely ran into young Bingo Little, looking perfectly foul in a crimson satin tie decorated with horseshoes.
“Hallo, Bertie,” said Bingo.
“My God, man!” I gargled. “The cravat! The gent’s neckwear! Why? For what reason?”
“Oh, the tie?” He blushed. “I—er—I was given it.”
He seemed embarrassed, so I dropped the subject.
We toddled along a bit, and sat down on a couple of chairs by the Serpentine.
“Jeeves tells me you want to talk to me about