“Push that in at the first post office you pass,” I said. “She will find it waiting for her on her return.”
Gussie popped along, flapping the telegram and looking like a close-up of Joan Crawford, and I turned to Jeeves and gave him a précis of my operations.
“Simple, you observe, Jeeves. Nothing elaborate.”
“No, sir.”
“Nothing far-fetched. Nothing strained or bizarre. Just Nature’s remedy.”
“Yes, sir.”
“This is the attack as it should have been delivered. What do you call it when two people of opposite sexes are bunged together in close association in a secluded spot, meeting each other every day and seeing a lot of each other?”
“Is ‘propinquity’ the word you wish, sir?”
“It is. I stake everything on propinquity, Jeeves. Propinquity, in my opinion, is what will do the trick. At the moment, as you are aware, Gussie is a mere jelly when in the presence. But ask yourself how he will feel in a week or so, after he and she have been helping themselves to sausages out of the same dish day after day at the breakfast sideboard. Cutting the same ham, ladling out communal kidneys and bacon—why——”
I broke off abruptly. I had had one of my ideas.