“I'm sorry,” he said. “I was a silly ass even to think such a thing. But—but you see, Knowles, I—I—this means so much to me. I'm sorry, though. I ask her pardon and yours.”
I was sorry, too. “Of course I didn't mean that, exactly,” I said. “Her feelings toward you are of the kindest, I have no doubt, but her reason for leaving was a purely personal one. You were not concerned in it.”
He reflected. He was far from satisfied, naturally, and his next speech showed it.
“It is extraordinary, all this,” he said. “You are quite sure you don't know when she is coming back?”
“Quite.”
“Would you mind giving me her London address?”
“I don't know it.”
“You don't KNOW it! Oh, I say! that's damned nonsense! You don't know when she is coming back and you don't know her address! Do you mean you don't know where she has gone?”
“Yes.”
“What—? Are you trying to tell me she is not coming back at all?”