“I admire him, for one thing, as a fine seaman,” said Hardy.
“Yes,” said Miss Nugent, “and—”
“And I've always had a great liking for Mrs. Kingdom,” he continued; “she was very good-natured to me when I was a very small boy, I remember. She is very kind and amiable.”
The baffled Miss Nugent stole a glance at him. “And—” she said again, very softly.
“And very motherly,” said Hardy, without moving a muscle.
Miss Nugent pondered and stole another glance at him. The expression of his face was ingenuous, not to say simple. She resolved to risk it. So far he had always won in their brief encounters, and monotony was always distasteful to her, especially monotony of that kind.
“And what about me?” she said, with a friendly smile.
“You,” said Hardy, with a gravity of voice belied by the amusement in his eye; “you are the daughter of the fine seaman and the niece of the good-natured and motherly Mrs. Kingdom.”
Miss Nugent looked down again hastily, and all the shrew within her clamoured for vengeance. It was the same masterful Jem Hardy that had forced his way into their seat at church as a boy. If he went on in this way he would become unbearable; she resolved, at the cost of much personal inconvenience, to give him a much-needed fall. But she realized quite clearly that it would be a matter of time.
“Of course, you and Jack are already good friends?” she said, softly.