observe the conventions, so I shook his hand as warmly as I could.
“Well, well, old man,” I said. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” said Biffy, wanly, and there was rather a weighty silence.
“Bertie,” said Biffy, after the silence had lasted about three minutes.
“Hullo?”
“Is it really true—?”
“What?”
“Oh, nothing,” said Biffy, and conversation languished again. After about a minute and a half he came to the surface once more.
“Bertie.”
“Still here, old thing. What is it?”
“I say, Bertie, is it really true that you were once engaged to Honoria?”
“It is.”
Biffy coughed.
“How did you get out—I mean, what was the nature of the tragedy that prevented the marriage?”
“Jeeves worked it. He thought out the entire scheme.”
“I think,