"I think, Comrade Wilberfloss," he said, "we are talking at cross-purposes. You keep harping on Comrade White and his views and tastes. One would almost imagine that you fancied that Comrade White was the proprietor of this paper."
Mr. Wilberfloss stared. B. Henderson Asher stared. Every one stared, except Mr. Jarvis, who, since the readings from the Kid's reminiscences had ceased, had lost interest in the discussion, and was now entertaining the cats with a ball of paper tied to a string.
"Fancied that Mr. White . . .?" repeated Mr. Wilberfloss. "I don't follow you. Who is, if he isn't?"
Psmith removed his monocle, polished it thoughtfully, and put it back in its place.
"I am," he said.
CHAPTER XXIX — THE KNOCK-OUT FOR MR. WARING
"You!" cried Mr. Wilberfloss.
"The same," said Psmith.