“Your consternation does credit, if I may say so, to the heart of the author of A Red, Red Summer Rose . But I am thankful to say the worst has not happened. The matter has been adjusted. Jane is not leaving me.”

“Good egg!”

“Good egg, indeed⁠—though the expression is not familiar to me. I do not remember having come across it in your books. And, speaking of your books, may I say that what has impressed me about them even more than the moving poignancy of the actual narrative, is your philosophy of life. If there were more men like you, Mr. Wooster, London would be a better place.”

This was dead opposite to my Aunt Agatha’s philosophy of life, she having always rather given me to understand that it is the presence in it of chappies like me that makes London more or less of a plague spot; but I let it go.