“Oh, no; that was eight months ago. He could not stay eight months in any country; besides, there are no gambling-houses there.”
“And have you been eight months searching Europe for this madman?”
“No. At first pride and anger were strong, and I said, 'Here I stay till he comes back to me and to his senses.'”
“Brava!”
“Yes; but month after month went by, carrying away my pride and my anger, and leaving my affection undiminished. At last I could bear it no longer; so, as he would not come to his senses—”
“You took leave of yours, and came out on a wild-goose chase,” said Ashmead, but too regretfully to affront her.
“It was,” said Ina; “I feel it. But it is not one now, because I have you to assist me with your experience and ability. You will find him for me, somehow or other. I know you will.”
Let a woman have ever so little guile, she must have tact, if she is a true woman. Now, tact, if its etymology is to be trusted, implies a fine sense and power of touch; so, in virtue of her sex, she pats a horse before she rides him, and a man before she drives him. There, ladies, there is an indictment in two counts; traverse either of them if you can.
Joseph Ashmead, thus delicately but effectually manipulated, swelled with gratified vanity and said, “You are quite right; you can't do this sort of thing yourself; you want an agent.”
“Of course I do.”