I mused once more. Gussie and I, as I say, had rather lost touch, but all
the same I was exercised about the poor fish, as I am about all my pals,
close or distant, who find themselves treading upon Life's banana skins.
It seemed to me that he was up against it.

I threw my mind back to the last time I had seen him. About two years
ago, it had been. I had looked in at his place while on a motor trip, and
he had put me right off my feed by bringing a couple of green things with
legs to the luncheon table, crooning over them like a young mother and
eventually losing one of them in the salad. That picture, rising before
my eyes, didn't give me much confidence in the unfortunate goof's ability
to woo and win, I must say. Especially if the girl he had earmarked was
one of these tough modern thugs, all lipstick and cool, hard, sardonic
eyes, as she probably was.

"Tell me, Jeeves," I said, wishing to know the worst, "what sort of a
girl is this girl of Gussie's?"

"I have not met the young lady, sir. Mr. Fink-Nottle speaks highly of her
attractions."

"Seemed to like her, did he?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did he mention her name? Perhaps I know her."

"She is a Miss Bassett, sir. Miss Madeline Bassett."

"What?"