Under Napier’s curt manner there had been a great dismay. This fellow her uncle? Evidently he was in the habit of coming to the office. Perhaps she would be hurt, or angry. Napier would do almost anything rather than hurt or anger Joey—almost anything; but he would not tolerate Captain Vincey. The firm had sent him out here to run this office properly, and he was going to do it. He hoped Joey would understand.
“Well, now you know!” said Vincey genially.[Pg 532]
Napier did not reply, and the captain began to grow angry; but he remembered that look on Joey’s face.
James Vincey had been a handsome man in his day, and even now, wreck as he was, he had considerable personal charm. People liked him, and made allowances for him. For Joey’s sake he would make this fellow like him.
“Have a drink?” he said.
“No, thanks,” said Napier.
Unfortunately, it was a part of Vincey’s code to consider a refusal to drink as an insult, and his face grew crimson. He was about to speak, when again he remembered that look on Joey’s face, and again restrained himself.
“In climate like this—” he said. “You’re a newcomer. Wait till you’ve been here a bit. You’ve never been out of England before, eh?”
“I spent nearly four years—in Belgium and France,” said Napier, “and the climate wasn’t very wholesome, where I was.”
“Oh! The war, eh?” said Vincey.