“How would this do you, Bingo?" I said at length. "A few plovers' eggs to weigh in with, a cup of soup, a touch of cold salmon, some cold curry, and a splash of gooseberry tart and cream with a bite of cheese to finish?"I don't know that I had expected the man actually to scream with delight, though I had picked the items from my knowledge of his pet dishes, but I had expected him to say something.”

“I say, you don't know how I could raise fifty quid somehow, do you?""Why don't you work?""Work?" said young Bingo, surprised. "What, me? No, I shall have to think of some way.”

“Now look here, old friend," I said. "I know your bally heart is broken and all that, and at some future time I shall be delighted to hear all about it, but - ""I didn't come to talk about that.""No? Good egg!""The past," said young Bingo, "is dead. Let us say no more about it.""Right-o!""I have been wounded to the very depths of my soul, but don't speak about it.""I won't.""Ignore it. Forget it.""Absolutely!"I hadn't seen him so dashed reasonable for days.”

“Didn't Frankenstein get married?""Did he?" said Eggy. "I don't know. I never met him. Harrow man, I expect.”

“In love with me. Don't be absurd.""My dear old thing, you don't know young Bingo. He can fall in love with anybody.""Thank you!""Oh, I didn't mean it that way, you know. I don't wonder at his taking to you. Why, I was in love with you myself once.""Once? Ah! And all that remains now are the cold ashes? This isn't once of your tactful evenings, Bertie.""Well, my dear sweet thing, dash it all, considering that you gave me the bird and nearly laughed yourself into a permanent state of hiccoughs when I asked you - ""Oh, I'm not reproaching you. No doubt there were faults on both sides. He's very good-looking, isn't he?""Good-looking? Bingo? Bingo good-looking? No, I say, come now, really!""I mean, compared with some people," said Cynthia.”

“I've been through a bad time, Bertie, these last weeks. The sun ceased to shine - ""That's curious. We've had gorgeous weather in London.""The birds ceased to sing.""What birds?""What the devil does it matter what birds?" said young BIngo, with some asperity. "Any birds. The birds round about here. You don't expect me to specify them by their pet names, do you? I tell you, Bertie, it hit me hard at first, very hard.""What hit you?" I simply couldn't follow the blighter."Charlotte's calculated callousness.”

“What would Jeeves do that for?""It struck me as rummy, too."..."I mean to say, it's nothing to Jeeves what sort of a face you have!""No!" said Cyril. He spoke a little coldly, I fancied. I don't know why. "Well, I'll be popping. Toodle-oo!”