He was perfectly right.
“Nor am I! I must have left it in Sippy’s office. Wait here, Jeeves, while I fetch it.”
“Very good, sir.”
“I have much to say to you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
I galloped up the stairs and dashed in at the door. And something squashy fell on my neck, and the next minute the whole world was a solid mass of flour.
In the agitation of the moment I had gone in at the wrong door; and what it all boils down to is that, if any more of my pals get inferiority complexes, they can jolly well get rid of them for themselves.
Bertram is through.