What ho, Jeeves

摘要

It beats me why a man of Peter's genius is satisfied to hang about doing odd jobs and what not. If I had Peter's brain, I should have a stab at being prime minister or something. But don't run away with the impression that Peter is one of my wealthier cronies. He's dashed hard up, poor bloke, like most fellows in politics. We were putting on the nosebag one evening when his misery bubbled over. Until then I had no idea where he lived or how. From what he told me it was a dingy place in south Islington, close to King's Cross and Farringdon Road. He dedicated himself to the party but the salary was modest. He worked long hours and had nothing to show for it, not even a decent flat where he could relax and entertain friends. I asked what he had in mind.