Hot Water by Sir P G Wodehouse

middle of the fairway, a source of no small inconvenience to one and all.
    Packy was not dancing. Nor was Mr Gedge. Mr Gedge had taken a turn or two earlier in the evening, but, chancing to trip over his feet and fall a little heavily against the bandstand, he had retired to a table on the edge of the arena and was now sitting there with a dark scowl on his face, regarding the revellers with every evidence of disapproval and dislike. He had, indeed, conceived a very deep-rooted loathing for his fellow-human beings. Spiritually, he was in the depths.
    Much has been written against the practice of over-indulging in alcoholic stimulants: but to the thinking man the real objection to such over-indulgence must always be the fact that, beyond a certain point, the wine-cup ceases to stimulate and, instead, depresses. The result, as Packy was shortly to discover, being that, with a companion well under the influence, you never know where you are. You start the evening gaily with a sunny-minded Jekyll, and suddenly and without any warning he turns on your hands into a brooding Hyde.
    During dinner and for an hour or two after it, J. Wellington Gedge had had all the earmarks of one who on honeydew has fed and drunk the milk of Paradise. He had overflowed with amiability and good-will. A child could have played with him, and, what is more, he would probably have given it a franc to buy sweets with. And Packy, having no reason to suppose that he was not still in this Cheeryble-like frame of mind, felt encouraged and optimistic.
    That Mr Gedge's mood had changed completely and was now like something Schopenhauer might have had after a bad night, he did not begin to suspect. True, the Seigneur of the Château Blissac had become a little quiet. But, then, if only to restore the average, it was about time that he stopped howling and singing for a moment or two.
    It was with bright confidence, therefore, and without any inkling of the truth, that Packy, at last finding himself alone with Mr Gedge, started to bring the talk around to the subject nearest his heart.
    'So you live at the Château Blissac?' he said.
    Mr Gedge did not appear to have heard the remark. He was still staring with a kindling eye at the dancers. His lower jaw protruded a little, and he breathed heavily through his nose.
    'So you live at the Château Blissac, Mr Gedge?'
    'Eh?'
    Packy repeated the observation for the third time, and his companion sat in silence for a while, turning it over in his mind. A close observer would have seen that it did not please him.
    'At the Shattlebissack?'
    'Yes.'
    'I live there?'
    'Yes.'
    'Who says I don't?'
    'I said you do, don't you?'
    Mr Gedge frowned.
    'If any man says I don't live at the Shattlebissack, I'll poke him in the nose. Yessir! They can't talk that way to Wellington Gedge.'
    'No, no. Everybody says you do.'
    'They better,' said Mr Gedge, quietly but none the less menacingly for that quietness.
    He relapsed into a dark silence again, and for the first time it began to be borne in upon Packy that the other was not his former winsome self. He felt a little disquieted. So much, however, hung upon this thing that he tried again.
    'It must be a wonderful place.'
    'Eh?'
    'I say it must be a wonderful place.'
    'What must?'
    'The Château.'
    'What Château?'
    'The Château Blissac.'
    'Never heard of it,' said Mr Gedge.
    Packy was now definitely discouraged. It was plain to him that it was going to be difficult to extract a formal invitation from this sozzled man. He wished now that he had broached the all-important topic during dinner. There had been a point, just after the first bottle of champagne and just before the second, when Mr Gedge had been in the mood to invite anyone anywhere.
    He was roused from his meditations by a choking sound at his side. Mr Gedge was glaring out at the dancing floor with open hatred.
    'Frenchmen!' said Mr Gedge.
    'I beg your pardon?'
    'If you ask me what's wrong with the world,' proceeded Mr Gedge,