“Well,” he said, “you’re all fitted out for a cruise, aren’t you? Have a cigar,”—and he offered me his case.
I took the weed and replied:
“Yes, and you seem ready to begin a cruise. May I ask where you are going?”
“I don’t know exactly,” he replied carelessly. “I haven’t quite made up my mind yet. I thought perhaps you might be able to decide the matter.”
“To decide!” I answered in surprise.
“Yes,” he said, sitting up suddenly and throwing the cigar overboard. “What nonsense were you talking to my daughter yesterday?”
I was so taken aback at this unexpected and gruff inquiry that I fear I stood there looking rather idiotic, which was evidently the old man’s own impression of me, for he scowled in a manner that was extremely disconcerting. I had no wish to adopt the Adam-like expedient of blaming the woman; but, after all, he had been there when I went off alone with her, and it was really not my fault that I was the girl’s sole companion in Nagasaki. All my own early training and later social prejudices led me to sympathize with Mr. Hemster’s evident ill-humour regarding our shore excursion, but nevertheless it struck me as a trifle belated. He should have objected when the proposal was made.
“Really, sir,” I stammered at last, “I’m afraid I must say I don’t exactly know what you mean.”
“I think I spoke plainly enough,” he answered. “I want you to be careful what you say, and if you come with me to my office, where we shall not be interrupted, I’ll give you a straight talking to, so that we may avoid trouble in the future.”