Lord Dawlish, "Bill" to his friends, is one of Wodehouse's many prototype Bertie Woosters--a series of slangy, feather-brained, good-hearted young men who invariably end up steeped to their glassy eyeballs in comedic complications. (Freddie Threepwood of the Blandings Castle series and the disjointed, Jeeves-less narrator Reggie Pepper spring to mind.) Outside of Wooster himself, Dawlish is unquestionably the most lovable. Right at the beginning, we see him getting accosted by a peddler who dubiously claims to have a starving family at home. No Wodehouse hero can turn a deaf ear or an empty purse on such a plea as that. "Rather a sad case, don't you know. Squads of children at home demanding bread," Dawlish weakly explains to his disapproving fianceé. "Didn't want much else, apparently, but were frightfully keen on bread."
The fianceé in question, Claire, is the scourge of poor Bill's existence, although he hasn't caught onto that yet. She accepted his proposal to begin with because he was a man of title, and was disappointed to find that he had no fortune to accompany it. She now tries, Lady Macbeth-like, to persuade him to earn money by what he considers underhanded means. Bill himself cares little for money, so when he inherits a million dollars from an eccentric whose golf game he once improved, his first thought is of the eccentric's cheated relatives in America, and he makes his way there with a view toward dividing the winnings with them somehow. Claire, unaware of this, is also on her way to America for a different purpose. In the usual Wodehouse manner, various characters snowball around these two until there are several factions, paths cross, and misunderstandings blossom like spring flowers.
Meanwhile, Dawlish slowly discovers that Claire might not be the girl for him. He feels what Wodehouse would call an "affinity" toward one Elizabeth Boyd, who, with her brother, would have inherited the million dollars were it not for him. Elizabeth, who has no idea that her new friend Bill is the same Lord Dawlish who stepped in and inherited her fortune, might be Wodehouse's best-drawn heroine. Unlike most female characters seen from a male perspective, she isn't merely around to fascinate, but to be liked and admired for her own sake. Humorous, strong-willed, and unpredictable, she gives you an idea of the sort of girl Bertie Wooster might have been happy with if his stories didn't demand that he remain uncommitted. What results is not only one of Wodehouse's best romances, but one of the best romances I've ever read, period. While not taking itself too seriously, it manages to tug hard on the heartstrings, even possibly induce a few tears. One gets the rare feeling that the writer cares as much about his own characters as any reader could.
Laughter certainly isn't wanting, though, and here I might mention that, since Wodehouse's catchy idealism is a byword, his gift for black comedy has been severely underrated. Plenty of authors, writing a story of this kind, would add a lovable pet monkey to the proceedings to appear in the wrong places and wreak havoc. But far fewer would allow the same lovable monkey to be shot dead by accident, and no one but Wodehouse would have his hero realize with a start, second after the climactic love scene, that he's still holding the dead monkey by the tail.