George, who had been standing gripping the back of a chair, demanded in a voice...

George, who had been standing gripping the back of a chair, demanded in a voice which boded ill for the absent Viscount. 'What has Sherry done to you?'
"He has not done anything yet. That is why I had to run away, to prevent him! I could not bear it, I "could" not!'
'By God!' George swore, his brilliant eyes beginning to smolder. 'Only tell me!'
Mr Ringwood emerged from his stupefaction at this point. He poured himself out some brandy, tossed it off, and set down the glass with the air of a man who was now competent to deal with any emergency. 'Hold your tongue, George!' he commanded tersely. 'So Sherry's home, is he, Kitten?'
She nodded, two large tears rolling down her cheeks.
'I take it it's this curst race of yours?'
'Yes. How could I have been so wicked and stupid as to- Oh, Ferdy, if I had but listened to you this morning!'
He shook his head sadly. 'Pity,' he agreed. 'Thought so at the time.'
'But even then it would have been too late, for Sherry says they are betting on me in the clubs, and my reputation is quite ruined! Everyone is talking of me, b-bandying my name about-'
'Let anyone bandy your name about in my presence!' said George, grinding his teeth. 'Only let them mention your name, that's all I ask! "I" shall know what to do if Sherry don't!