Well, let me tell you, Mr. Mangelhoffer, that the man that hath no music in himself is fit for... hang on a minute. [goes into the other room, where Jeeves is peeling potatoes] Jeeves, what was it Shakespeare said the man that hadn't music in himself was fit for?
Well, sir, this has certainly made my day, you little blob of sunshine. [tweaks Bertie's cheek, then takes him by the arm] Isn't he looking lovely, Father?
JWJ. Washburn Stoker
Come away from that man, Pauline. That man is bad news!
[Pauline makes an expression of mock horror with widened eyes]
What he needs is a jolt. If he thought that there was a grave danger of some other bloke scooping her up, well, wouldn't that make him forget those dashed silly ideas of his and charge ahead, breathing fire through the nostrils?
Do you know, I once consulted a knowledgeable pal, and his theory was that the sight of me hanging around like a loony sheep awoke the maternal instinct in woman. There may be something in this.
[as firemen arrive to put out a fire raging at the cottage where he's staying, Bertie, reeling in pain, crawls on his hands and knees to sit against a tree]
With respect, sir, I merely intended Mr. Stoker to discover his daughter at your cottage. So strongly does he disapprove of you that I expected him to look more kindly on Miss Stoker's putative engagement to Lord Chuffnell. The fact that His Lordship should also discover her here, and in mortal peril, was, as the Americans say, pure gravy.
[Jeeves regards the unfolding drama with satisfaction. Bertie stares at the scene, dumbfounded at first; as Jeeves's words sink in, he begins to smile, then winces again in pain]