(no subject)

From Jeeves In The Springtime.

Our hero, Bertie, has just met up with his friend Bingo Little who earlier told Jeeves he had a matter of great importance to speak with Bertie on, but has suddenly shown reluctance to explain what said matter is:

I waited for him to unleash the topic of the day, but he didn't seem to want to get going. Conversation languished. He stared straight ahead of him in a glassy sort of manner.

"I say, Bertie," he said, after a pause of about an hour and a quarter.

"Hallo!"

"Do you like the name Mabel?"

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"You don't think there's a kind of music in the word, like the wind rustling gently through the tree-tops?"

"No."

He seemed disappointed for a moment; then cheered up.

"Of course, you wouldn't. You always were a fatheaded worm without any soul, weren't you?"

"Just as you say. Who is she? Tell me all."

I hope one day my own writing delights me as much as just a snippet of Wodehouse's does.