"Well," said Bertie, "it'll be a pleasure to have a reminder of the old metrop. about the place. Where have you been travelling? I'm just back from New York myself."
Bertie peered around the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers and poking at appliances more or less at random. "It all looks rather intimidating," he said, "like all those fancy gizmos and whatnots are rubbing in their superiority." He glared at a blender.
"So, which one's the micro-whatsit? Sounds like I'll be on the chummiest of terms with it soon, so I might as well begin the acquaintance."
Bertie gulped at the thought of evil-fighting classes. "Well, I suppose, if there's evil to be fought, Code of the Woosters and all that," he said weakly, not looking too happy at the thought. "The only fight I ever had to go through with in school didn't exactly cover the Wooster name in glory, though."
Bertie blinked in incomprehension, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and staring at it to see if it had suddenly become something dangerous and offensive. It was still merely an innocent tube of tobacco, which meant that he had no idea whatsoever what that rot Rose was coming out with actually meant. "What?"