His geniality sagged a trifle, I thought, but he didn’t heave me out, so I pushed on.
“The way I always look at it,” I said, “is that it’s dashed difficult for anything to prevail against what you might call a pure and all-consuming love. I mean, can it be done? I doubt it.”
My eyes didn’t exactly flash as I faced the stern old man, but I sort of waggled my eyebrows. He puffed a bit and looked doubtful.
“We discussed this matter at our last meeting, Mr. Wooster. And on that occasion. …”
“Yes. But there have been developments, as it were, since then. The fact of the matter is,” I said, coming to the point, “this morning young Bingo went and jumped off the dock.”
“Good heavens!” He jerked himself to his feet with his mouth open. “Why? Where? Which dock?”
I saw that he wasn’t quite on.
“I was speaking metaphorically,” I explained, “if that’s the word I want. I mean he got married.”
“Married!”
“Absolutely hitched up. I hope you aren’t ratty about it, what? Young blood, you know. Two loving hearts, and all that.”
He panted in a rather overwrought way.
“I am greatly disturbed by your news. I—I consider that I have been—er—defied. Yes, defied.”
“But who are you to pit yourself against the decrees of Fate?” I said, taking a look at the prompt book out of the corner of my eye.