Scanning the throng within, I found it difficult for a while to spot
Seppings. Presently, however, he hove in view, doing fearfully lissom
things in mid-floor. I “Hi-Seppings!”-ed a couple of times, but his
mind was too much on his job to be diverted, and it was only when the
swirl of the dance had brought him within prodding distance of my
forefinger that a quick one to the lower ribs enabled me to claim his
attention.
The unexpected buffet caused him to trip over his partner’s feet, and
it was with marked austerity that he turned. As he recognized Bertram,
however, coldness melted, to be replaced by astonishment.
“Mr. Wooster!”