P. G. Wodehouse

Jeeves and the Feudal Spirit

How fortunate that Stilton Cheesewright drew Bertie Wooster, the red-hot favorite, in the Drones Club annual darts tournament. Had he not he would surely have beaten Bertie to a pulp and buttered the lawn with him. Stilton does not like men trifling with his fiancée Florence Craye's affections. In the event Florence would seem to prefer Percy Gorringe, stepson of L.G. Trotter. What is Aunt Dahlia's obsessive interest in the wretched Trotter? Can there be more than one rope of false pearls? Will Jeeves deign to put things right, given that Bertie has grown a moustache of which he disapproves strongly?
211 printed pages


    stoodyshared an impression2 years ago
    🔮Hidden Depths
    💡Learnt A Lot

    One would be well advised to become acquainted with prior stories as this tome contains a great many references to characters and events in the lives of the two protagonist chappies.

    All that rot said , the tale certainly did "rem acu tetiigisti" for moi. Thank you PG, for giving us another wonderful portal into a happy, sunny, warm and beautiful ; other dimension.

    Sonali Choubeyshared an impression5 years ago
    👍Worth reading

    Great boon

    vminocha kshared an impression5 years ago
    👍Worth reading



    Антон Юркинhas quoted2 years ago
    ‘Did you notice how he looked when he said “Florence”? Like a dying duck in a thunderstorm.’
    Roseblossom999has quoted4 months ago
    She was silent for a space. Then she spoke in what was for her a hushed voice. That is to say, while rattling the vases on the mantelpiece, it did not bring plaster down from the ceiling.
    dashenka1991has quoted7 months ago
    it. Do you understand? I won’t have you cheapening yourself.’
    There was a crash. It was Aunt Dahlia dropping her coffee—cup, and I could appreciate her emotion. She was feeling precisely as I had felt on learning from Percy that the Wooster Darts Sweep ticket had changed hands, leaving Stilton free to attack me with tooth and claw. There is nothing that makes a woman sicker than the sudden realization that somebody she thought she was holding in the hollow of her hand isn’t in the hollow of her hand by a jugful. So far from being in the hollow of her hand, L.G. Trotter was stepping high, wide and handsome with his hat on the side of his head, and I wasn’t surprised that the thing had shaken her to her foundation garments.
    In the silence which followed L.G. Trotter’s response to this wifely ultimatum — it was, if I remember correctly, ‘Okay’ — Seppings appeared in the doorway.
    He was carrying a silver salver, and on this salver lay a pearl necklace.

On the bookshelves

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