“Bertie, I love her.”
“Stout fellow! Have you told her so?”
“How can I?”
“I don’t see why not. Quite easy to bring into the general conversation.”
Sippy groaned hollowly.
“Do you know what it is, Bertie, to feel the humility of a worm?”
“Rather! I do sometimes with Jeeves. But today he went too far. You will scarcely credit it, old man, but he had the crust to criticize a vase which—”
“She is so far above me.”
“Tall girl?”
“Spiritually. She is all soul. And what am I? Earthy.”
“Would you say that?”
“I would. Have you forgotten that a year ago I did thirty days without the option for punching a policeman in the stomach on Boat-Race night?”
“But you were whiffled at the time.”
“Exactly. What right has an inebriated jailbird to aspire to a goddess?”
My heart bled for the poor old chap.
“Aren’t you exaggerating things a trifle, old lad?” I said. “Everybody who has had a gentle upbringing gets a bit sozzled on Boat-Race night, and the better element nearly always have trouble with the gendarmes.”