“Just the sort of rum customer females take fancies to,” said Marmaduke.
Mr Ringwood considered this, and was obliged to agree that there was much in what his friend said. “Not that I give a button whom she marries,” he said, refilling his glass. “All I say is, it’s a pity Sherry has a fancy for the fellow. Got my reasons for thinking he’s badly dipped. Bad enough when he’s full of frisk; devilish dangerous when he’s aground. Wonder if that’s why he’s throwing his handkerchief towards the Incomparable?”
“You know Mrs Capel’s place in Pall Mall?” asked Ferdy.
“Heard of it,” replied Mr Ringwood. “Sharps and flats.”
“Well, Sherry’s taken to going there.”
“He has?” Mr Ringwood said, shocked.
Ferdy nodded gloomily. “Plays rouge et noir there.”
“Bad, very bad!” Mr Ringwood said. “What the deuce does he do it for? Don’t mind a fellow’s gaming a trifle: do it myself! but it’s getting to be a curst habit with Sherry! What’s come over him?”
“Revesby,” replied Marmaduke shortly. He pressed his thumb down on the table. “Got Sherry there. Only has to crook his finger: Sherry’s off. Same with Tallerton. Saw it happen.”
“Tallerton!” exclaimed Mr Ringwood, staring.