“Sir?”
“I said, tell me all about it.”
“Well, really, sir . . .” said Beach wistfully.
“To please me,” urged Psmith.
“Well, sir, it is extremely kind of you to take an interest. It generally starts with a dull shooting pain on the right side of the abdomen from twenty minutes to half an hour after the conclusion of a meal. The symptoms . . .”
There was nothing but courteous sympathy in Psmith’s gaze as he listened to what sounded like an eyewitness’s account of the San Francisco earthquake, but inwardly he was wishing that his companion could see his way to making it a bit briefer and snappier. However, all things come to an end. Even the weariest river winds somewhere to the sea. With a moving period, the butler finally concluded his narrative.
“Parks’ Pepsinine,” said Psmith promptly.
“Sir?”
“That’s what you want. Parks’ Pepsinine. It would set you right in no time.”
“I will make a note of the name, sir. The specific has not come to my notice until now. And, if I may say so,” added Beach, with a glassy but adoring look at his benefactor, “I should like to express my gratitude for your kindness.”