'I am sorry,' said Psmith gravely, 'if my stare falls short in any way
of your ideal of what a stare should be; but I appeal to these
gentlemen. Could I have watched the game more quietly?'

'Of course not,' said the bereaved partner warmly. 'Nobody could have
any earthly objection to your behaviour. It was absolute carelessness.
I should have thought that one might have expected one's partner at a
club like this to exercise elementary--'

But Mr Bickersdyke had gone. He had melted silently away like the
driven snow.

Psmith took his place at the table.

'A somewhat nervous excitable man, Mr Bickersdyke, I should say,' he
observed.

'A somewhat dashed, blanked idiot,' emended the bank-manager's late
partner. 'Thank goodness he lost as much as I did. That's some light
consolation.'

Psmith arrived at the flat to find Mike still out. Mike had repaired to
the Gaiety earlier in the evening to refresh his mind after the labours
of the day. When he returned, Psmith was sitting in an armchair with
his feet on the mantelpiece, musing placidly on Life.

'Well?' said Mike.

'Well? And how was the Gaiety? Good show?'