Love seemed to call me, but it was a wrong number

soup tureen

Mmmm, soup!

“…Jeeves,” I said, “nothing seems to matter.”

“No, sir?”

“No, Jeeves. A woman has tossed my heart lightly away, but what of it?”

“Exactly, sir.”

“The voice of Love seemed to call me, but it was a wrong number. Is that going to crush me?”

“No, sir.”

“No, Jeeves. It is not. But what does matter in this ghastly business of my face being spread from end to end of the Metropolis with the eyes fixed on a plate of Slingsby’s Superb Soup. I must leave London. The lads at the Drones will kid me without ceasing.”

“Yes, Sir. And Mrs. Spenser Gregson – “

I paled visibly. I hadn’t thought of Aunt Agatha and what she might have to say…

by P.G. Wodehouse (15 October 1881 – 14 February 1975)
from the short story “The Spot of Art”
found in the book Very Good, Jeeves!
image – Le Petit Poulailler

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