“I am afraid so, Sir Roderick.”
Sir Roderick looked gravely at the even graver face of Jeeves. Beside him, Bertie sat, twiddling his thumbs and tapping his feet with a restless whangee.
“Mr. Wooster is this correct? Did your Aunt try to insist that you and Jeeves provide your ‘services’?”
“Er, ah, whatsit, that is, yes, Sir Roderick.”
Sir Roderick turned to Lady Worplesdon, who was just regaining consciousness, a dented silver cow creamer on the floor beside her. “Lady Worplesdon?”
“I had the oddest dream, Roddy. Whatever was in that sherry?”
“We have a great deal to discuss, Agatha.”