“Well, there was no harm in trying,” argued the other.
“None whatever.”
“You see,” said the now far less jovial man confidentially, “you look such a perfect mug with that eyeglass that it tempts a chap.”
“I can quite understand how it must!”
“No offence.”
“Assuredly not.”
The white hat disappeared through the swing doors, and Psmith returned to his quest. He engaged the attention of a middle-aged man in a snuff-coloured suit who had just come within hail.
“There will be rain in Northumberland to-morrow,” he said.
The man peered at him inquiringly.
“Hey?” he said.