“Red hair, sir, in my opinion, is dangerous.”

“Jeeves.""Sir?""Are you busy just now?""No, sir.""I mean, not doing anything in particular?""No, sir. It is my practice at this hour to read some improving book; but, if you desire my services, this can easily be postponed, or, indeed, abandoned altogether.”

“It ought to be a criminal offence for women to dye their hair. Especially red. What the devil do women do that sort of thing for?”

“How does he look, Jeeves?""Sir?""What does Mr Bassington-Bassington look like?""It is hardly my place, sir, to criticize the facial peculiarities of your friends.”

“Jeeves, Mr Little is in love with that female.""So I gathered, sir. She was slapping him in the passage."I clutched my brow."Slapping him?""Yes, sir. Roguishly.”

“Jeeves," I said, "those spats.""Yes, sir?""You really dislike them?""Intensely, sir.""You don't think time might induce you to change your views?""No, sir.""All right, then. Very well. Say no more. You may burn them.""Thank you very much, sir. I have already done so. Before breakfast this morning. A quiet grey is far more suitable, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Just as you say, sir. There is a letter on the tray, sir.""By Jove, Jeeves, that was practically potry. Rhymed, did you notice?”