"That girl has quite excellent nerves," said Valentine. "Still, what I like about her is that she doesn't think it necessary to impress it on you. Her husband won't have much to complain of if she ever marries anybody, though I'm not sure that's certain."
"Not certain?" said Jimmy.
"No," replied Valentine reflectively. "A girl of her kind is apt to be particular. The man who pleases her would have to be quite straight, and it's scarcely likely he'd go to leeward either."
Jimmy fancied that his comrade was right, though he said nothing, for after all it was, as he compelled himself to admit, no concern of his. However, he sighed a little as he went down and crawled into his cot, leaving Valentine to feel his way along the dusky shore.
It was early next morning when they rowed Austerly and his two companions ashore, and the man shook hands with them on the wharf.
"I feel that I am indebted to both of you," he said with somewhat unusual diffidence. "In fact, I can't exactly consider that the attention you have shown my daughter is no more than one would expect—from the charter."
He seemed to feel that he was becoming involved, and went on abruptly. "She desires me to say that it would be a pleasure should either of you care to call at any time."
Jimmy left him to Valentine, and, when the latter had handed Miss Austerly into the waiting vehicle, saw that Anthea Merril was looking at him.
"If you don't mind my saying so, I think that was rather good of Austerly," she said. "You probably know his point of view, and I daresay it cost him an effort. I think your comrade should go. Nellie finds him amusing, and there is naturally not very much in her life that pleases her."
She stopped with a little soft laugh. "Mr. Wheelock—isn't it? I haven't the least difficulty in saying as much as Austerly did. Any time you or Mr. Valentine care to call I should be glad to receive you. Our house is always open, and anybody will tell you where it is."