“Why, what the devil was she running away from?”
Dick found the question unusually hard to answer.
“Why,” said he, “you know you’re a bit of a rip.”
“I behave to that girl, sir, like an archdeacon,” replied Van Tromp warmly.
“Well—excuse me—but you know you drink,” insisted Dick.
“I know that I was a sheet in the wind’s eye, sir, once—once only, since I reached this place,” retorted the Admiral. “And even then I was fit for any drawing-room. I should like you to tell me how many fathers, lay and clerical, go upstairs every day with a face like a lobster and cod’s eyes—and are dull, upon the back of it—not even mirth for the money! No, if that’s what she runs for, all I say is, let her run.”
“You see,” Dick tried it again, “she has fancies—”
“Confound her fancies!” cried Van Tromp. “I used her kindly; she had her own way; I was her father. Besides, I had taken quite a liking to the girl, and meant to stay with her for good. But I tell you what it is, Dick, since she has trifled with you—Oh yes, she did though!—and since her old papa’s not good enough for her—the devil take her, say I.”
“You will be kind to her at least?” said Dick.
“I never was unkind to a living soul,” replied the Admiral. “Firm I can be, but not unkind.”