“Find her, of course! I made sure she would have gone to my aunt Fakenham, or even to Lady Sefton, but she did not. I tell you I’m at my wits’ end, Gil! What with setting it about she’s indisposed, and fobbing people off, and trying to undo the harm that infernal race caused, and not knowing where to look for her — yes, and being obliged to continue living in this damned house — well, there are moments when I’d like to wring Kitten’s neck! I haven’t had a day’s hunting since she left home; I’ve had to career all over England in search of her; and I’m so worried I can’t sleep at night! Dash it, she’s no more fit to be fending for herself than that canary you gave her! And I don’t need you to tell me I’m responsible for her! I should never have been mad enough to have married a chit out of the schoolroom, and that’s the truth of it!”
Mr Ringwood looked at him under his brows. “Wishing you hadn’t, Sherry?”
“I wish I hadn’t married anyone!” Sherry said petulantly. “Don’t you, Gil! There’s nothing but trouble, and anxiety; and the devil of it is that you can’t alter it, and — no, you don’t even want to! The thing is, I suppose a fellow grows used to having a wife, for all he may not think it, and then — Damnation, I miss her like the devil, Gil!”
“Dare say she’ll come back to you,” said Mr Ringwood, at his most phlegmatic.
“Yes, that’s what I tell myself, and sometimes I believe it. It’s possible she’s playing a trick on me, for she was always the naughtiest chit imaginable! And then I think she ain’t, and when I start wondering what kind of a scrape she may have got herself into by now — well, it ain’t surprising I can’t sleep! If only I had the least notion where to look for her!” He ran a hand through his fair locks. “Isabella is back in town, or so they tell me. She may be able to help me, for she’s known Kitten since they were children. I’ve sent round a note, asking her if she will see me privately. I don’t know if I can trust her not to spread the truth round town, but if Kitten don’t come back soon it will be bound to leak out, so I dare say it makes no odds.”
Mr Ringwood, retiring from this interview in due course, was not ill-satisfied with what he had heard. He told Lord Wrotham that he fancied the business would work out tolerably well, and strongly vetoed his lordship’s suggestion that it was time they told Sherry the truth.
“Damn it, Gil, I don’t like it!” George said. “You don’t know what a man can suffer when the woman he loves — ”
“No reason to think Sherry loves Kitten.”
“I believe he does. He looks dashed ill, and he don’t hunt, or go to the races, or even look in at Watier’s!”
“Won’t do him any harm,” said Mr Ringwood, unmoved by this pathetic picture. “Matter of fact, I think you’re right, and he does love her. But he don’t know it yet, and he’d best find out. Talked of wringing her neck today. Got to go a long way beyond that, George.”