sank into a chair, thoroughly pipped.
“What’s to be done, Jeeves?”
“We must think, sir.”
“You think. I haven’t the machinery.”
“I will most certainly devote my very best attention to the matter, sir, and will endeavour to give satisfaction.”
Well, that was something. But I was ill at ease. Yes, there is no getting away from it. Bertram was ill at ease.
Next morning we visited sixty-three more Cambridge colleges, and after lunch I said I was going to my room to lie down. After staying there for half an hour to give the coast time to clear, I shoved a book and smoking materials in my pocket and, climbing out of window, shinned down a convenient water