The Inimitable Jeeves (Warbler Classics Annotated Edition)

by P.G. Wodehouse

A roll and butter and a small coffee seemed the only things on the list that hadn’t been specially prepared by the nastier-minded members of the Borgia family for people they had a particular grudge against, so I chose them, and Mabel hopped it.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” he said in a sort of hushed voice. “You are surely not proposing to appear in public in that thing?”

he looked like a sheep with a secret sorrow.

She had a penetrating sort of laugh. Rather like a train going into a tunnel.

For until I have had my early cup of tea and have brooded on life for a bit absolutely undisturbed, I’m not much of a lad for the merry chit-chat.

He called to see you earlier in the day.” “Good Lord, Jeeves! You don’t

He lugged them out of the drawer as if he were a vegetarian fishing a caterpillar out of the salad.

“Oh, I don’t know, you know, don’t you know!” I said.

I don’t mind admitting that, whenever I looked at Cyril’s face, I always had a feeling that he couldn’t have got that way without its being mostly his own fault.

while the heroine sang a song about Love being like something which for the moment has slipped my memory.

I could see by the look of his back what he felt.

We Woosters are amiability itself, but there is a limit.

“Good Lord, Jeeves! Is there anything you don’t know?” “I could not say, sir.”

said everything I could think of, much of it twice over.

I’m bound to admit that if he’d said “Humph!” at this juncture, he would have had me stymied. Luckily it didn’t occur to him.

I made up my mind that I would pop back and do the strong, manly thing by lying low in my flat and telling Jeeves to inform everybody who called that I wasn’t at home.