Franklin watched her go. To his tremendous love was added pride and admiration. She had called him a sportsman, but what could he call her?
"A contemptible trick,—yes," he thought. "But this is my job. Fate has marked me out to make a splendid woman of this spoiled girl, and I'll do it."
XXVII
Mr. Jones, with half a smile playing round his elastic mouth, and an irresistible twinkle in his small, blue, nimble eyes, quickly overhauled the Galatea, saw the launch properly hoisted and reported to the first officer.
"Well, that was a little bit of orl-right," he said, rubbing his handkerchief round the wet leather-lining of his cap. "Neat, very neat."
"Did they say anything when they twigged the idea?"
The whole of Mr. Jones' cockney face puckered into a grin. "Yes, I don't think," he said. "The old hen cackled as if she had lost her pet chicken. A good little soul. I believe she'd 'ave took a flyin' leap back into the launch if Mr. Fraser 'adn't 'eld her."
"What about Mrs. Larpent?"
"Ma boy, the siren's langwidge under her breath would 'ave lit a pile of shavings. Oh, she's 'ot stuff, that Larpy, and no mistake. Personally, I'm bally sorry she's off. It was better than readin' a novel to watch 'er sittin' about with a social smile on one side of her face and a Board meetin' on the other. The way she was layin' bird lime for the Boss! Clever? Nor 'arf,—and, moreover, what a nice leg for a stockin', eh?"
The first officer nodded sympathetically. "Yes," he said, "you're right. What about M.F.?"