“It is hardly my place, sir, to criticise the facial peculiarities of your friends.”
“I don’t mean that. I mean, does he appear peeved and whatnot?”
“Not noticeably, sir. His manner is tranquil.”
“That’s rum!”
“Sir?”
“Nothing. Show him in, will you?”
I’m bound to say I had expected to see Cyril showing a few more traces of last night’s battle. I was looking for a bit of the overwrought soul and the quivering ganglions, if you know what I mean. He seemed pretty ordinary and quite fairly cheerful.
“Hallo, Wooster, old thing!”
“Cheer-o!”
“I just looked in to say goodbye.”
“Goodbye?”
“Yes. I’m off to Washington in an hour.” He sat down on the bed.