Explore "Leave It to Psmith" by P. G. Wodehouse on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Meanwhile, at the Drones Club, a rather painful scene had been taking place. Psmith, regaining the shelter of the building, had made his way to the washroom, where, having studied his features with interest for a moment in the mirror, he smoothed his hair, which the rain had somewhat disordered, and brushed his clothes with extreme care. He then went to the cloakroom for his hat. The attendant regarded him as he entered with the air of one whose mind is not wholly at rest.
"Mr. Walderwick was in here a moment ago, sir," said the attendant.