“Jeeves,” I said, emerging from the old tub, “rally round.”
“Yes, sir.”
I beamed on the man with no little geniality. I was putting in a week or two in Paris at the moment, and there’s something about Paris that always makes me feel fairly full of espièglerie and joie de vivre .
“Lay out our gent’s medium-smart raiment, suitable for Bohemian revels,” I said. “I am lunching with an artist bloke on the other side of the river.”
“Very good, sir.”
“And if anybody calls for me, Jeeves, say that I shall be back towards the quiet evenfall.”
“Yes, sir. Mr. Biffen rang up on the telephone while you were in your bath.”
“ Mr. Biffen? Good heavens!”
Amazing how one’s always running