“Have you no delicacy, no proper feeling?”
“No.”
“Oh? Well, right-ho, of course, but I think you ought to have.”
“Delicacy be dashed. I wanted to be certain that it was not you who stole Angela from me. I now know it wasn’t.”
So long as he knew that, I didn’t so much mind him having no delicacy.
“Ah,” I said. “Well, that’s fine. Hold that thought.”
“I have found out who it was.”
“What?”
He stood brooding for a moment. His eyes were smouldering with a dull fire. His jaw stuck out like the back of Jeeves’s head.
“Bertie,” he said, “do you remember what I swore I would do to the chap who stole Angela from me?”