“Wonder why he never married,” said Hardy, musingly; “for my part I can't understand a man remaining single all his life; can you?”
“I never think of such things,” said Miss Nugent, coldly—and untruthfully.
“If it was only to have somebody to wait on him and keep his house clean,” pursued Hardy, with malice.
Miss Nugent grew restless, and the wrongs of her sex stirred within her. “You have very lofty ideas on the subject,” she said, scornfully, “but I believe they are not uncommon.”
“Still, you have never thought about such things, you know,” he reminded her.
“And no doubt you have devoted a great deal of time to the subject.”
Hardy admitted it frankly. “But only since I returned to Sunwich,” he said.
“Caused by the spectacle of Sam's forlorn condition, I suppose,” said Miss Nugent.
“No, it wasn't that,” he replied.
Miss Nugent, indignant at having been drawn into such a discussion, lapsed into silence. It was safer and far more dignified, but at the same time she yearned for an opportunity of teaching this presumptuous young man a lesson. So far he had had it all his own way. A way strewn with ambiguities which a modest maiden had to ignore despite herself.