I felt that the situation called for complete candour.
“Biffy, old egg,” I said, “as man to man, do you want to oil out of this thing?”
“Bertie, old cork,” said Biffy, earnestly, “as one friend to another, I do.”
“Then why the dickens did you ever get into it?”
“I don’t know. Why did you?”
“I—well, it sort of happened.”
“And it sort of happened with me. You know how it is when your heart’s broken. A kind of lethargy comes over you. You get absentminded and cease to exercise proper precautions, and the first thing you know you’re for it. I don’t know how it happened, old man, but there it is. And what I want you to tell me is, what’s the procedure?”
“You mean, how does a fellow edge out?”
“Exactly. I don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings, Bertie, but I can’t go through with this thing. The shot is not on the board. For about a day and a half I thought it might be all right, but now—You remember that laugh of hers?”
“I do.”
“Well, there’s that, and then all this business of never letting a fellow alone—improving his mind and so forth—”
“I know. I know.”
“Very well, then. What do you recommend? What did you mean when you said that Jeeves worked a scheme?”