And, as I was saying, the thing that shocked me most was Jeeves's frightful lack of proper emotion. The man happening to float in at this juncture, I gave him one more chance to show some human sympathy.
'You got the name correctly, didn't you, Jeeves?' I said. 'Mr Biffen is going to marry Honoria Glossop, the daughter of the old boy with the egg-like head and the eyebrows.'
'Yes, sir. Which suit would you wish me to lay out this morning?'
And this, mark you, from the man who, when I was engaged to the Glossop, strained every fibre in his brain to extricate me. It beat me. I couldn't understand it.
'The blue with the red twill,' I said coldly. My manner was marked, and I meant him to see that he had disappointed me sorely.
About a week later I went back to London, and scarcely had I g
