Leaning on the railing, ocean breeze ruffling the Wooster curls, Bertie blew smoke into the night air before handing the gasper to Jeeves. “Supposedly there’ll be England to America aeroplane flights soon,” he commented thoughtfully, a speculative haze in the baby blues. “No more long voyages. A few hours and there you are!”
“Would you prefer that, sir?” Jeeves asked in a less than sanguine tone, passing the cigarette back after a pull, exhaling slowly.
“No need for ‘sirring’, Reg,” Bertie chided softly, leaning surreptitiously into his man’s shoulder. “Give up sharing a cabin and moonlit strolls at sea? Nonsense!”