I merely called for my hat and stick in a marked manner and legged it. But the memory rankled, if you know what I mean. We Woosters do not lightly forget. At least, we do - some things - appointments, and people's birthdays, and letters to post, and all that - but not an absolute bally insult like the above. I brooded like the dickens.

Mr Little is certainly warm-hearted, sir.""Warm-hearted! I should think he has to wear asbestos vests.

Yes, by damn! It's too bad!" cried the whiskered marvel. "You careless old woman! You give my hotel bad names, would you or wasn't it? Tomorrow you leave my hotel, by great Scotland!"... I turned to Aunt Agatha, whose demeanour was now rather like that of one who, picking daisies on the railway, has just caught the down express in the small of the back.

It can't be done, old thing. Sorry, but it's out of the question. I couldn't go through all that again.""Not for me?""Not for a dozen more like you.""I never thought," said Bingo sorrowfully, "to hear those words from Bertie Wooster!""Well, you've heard them now," I said. "Paste them in your hat.""Bertie, we were at school together.""It wasn't my fault.""We've been pals for fifteen years.""I know. It's going to take me the rest of my life to live it down.

Jeeves," I said, "those spats.""Yes, sir?""You really dislike them?""Intensely, sir.""You don't think time might induce you to change your views?""No, sir.""All right, then. Very well. Say no more. You may burn them.""Thank you very much, sir. I have already done so. Before breakfast this morning. A quiet grey is far more suitable, sir. Thank you, sir.

Never mind," I said crisply. "I have my methods." I dug out my entire stock of manly courage, breathed a short prayer and let her have it right in the thorax.

My earnest hope is that the entire remainder of my existence will be one round of unruffled monotony.

I mean, when you've got used to a club where everything's nice and cheery, and where, if you want to attract a chappie's attention, you heave a piece of bread at him, it kind of damps you to come to a place where the youngest member is about eighty-seven and it isn't considered good form to talk to anyone unless you and he went through the Peninsular War together.

Bertie, it is imperative that you marry.""But, dash it all...""Yes! You should be breeding children to...""No, really, I say, please!" I said, blushing richly. Aunt Agatha belongs to two or three of these women's clubs, and she keeps forgetting she isn't in the smoking-room.