“Who the devil was he?” demanded Sherry.
“Well, I don’t precisely remember, but he married a beggar-maid, and gave her everything she wanted.”
“Sounds to me like a hum,” said her sceptical husband. “Besides, what’s the fellow got to do with us?”
“Only that you made me think of him,” said Hero, smiling mistily up at him.
“Nonsense!” said Sherry, revolted. “Never heard such a silly notion in my life! If you don’t take care, Kitten, you’ll have people saying you’re bookish.”
Hero promised to guard against earning this stigma; and after fortifying himself with some very tolerable burgundy from the hotel’s cellars, Sherry sat down to write a somewhat belated letter to his parent.
After a second day’s intensive shopping with Ferdy, there really seemed to be nothing left to buy for the house in Half Moon Street, except such dull necessities as kitchen furnishings and linen, and as Hero was getting tired of choosing furniture she greeted with acclaim Sherry’s suggestion that the rest should be entrusted to Mr Stoke to provide. “And I’ll tell you what, Kitten,” he added. “I’ve had a devilish good idea. We’ll be off to Leicestershire until the house is ready for us to step into. I’ve got a snug little hunting-box there: just the very thing for us!”
“Leicestershire, dear old boy?” exclaimed Mr Ringwood, who happened to be present. “What the deuce should take you there at this time of year?”
“Time I ran an eye over my young stock,” said Sherry. He met his friend’s eye, and said: “Well, dash it. why shouldn’t we go to Leicestershire? The house won’t be ready for weeks, from what I can see of it, and I’ll be damned if I’ll kick my heels in this place much longer! What’s more, I’ve got a strong notion we shall have my mother posting up to London. Seems to me a good moment to go into the country.”
Hero turned pale at the thought of having to confront the Viscount’s enraged parent, and faltered: “Anthony! Do you indeed think she will come to town?”