“I can't be rude to a woman,” said the steward, with a melancholy smile; “if I could, my life would ha' been very different. She's always stepping across to ask my advice about Teddy, or something o' that sort. All last week she kept borrowing my frying-pan, so at last by way of letting 'er see I didn't like it I went out and bought 'er one for herself. What's the result? Instead o' being offended she went out and bought me a couple o' neck-ties. When I didn't wear 'em she pretended it was because I didn't like the colour, and she went and bought two more. I'm wearing one now.”
He shook his head ruefully, and Hardy glanced at a tie which would have paled the glories of a rainbow. For some time they walked along in silence.
“I'm going to pay my respects to Cap'n Nugent this afternoon,” said Mr. Wilks, suddenly.
“Ah,” said the other.
“I knew what it 'ud be with them two on the same ship,” continued Mr. Wilks. “I didn't say nothing when you was talking to Miss Kate, but I knew well enough.”
“Ah,” said Hardy again. There was no mistaking the significance of the steward's remarks, and he found them somewhat galling. It was all very well to make use of his humble friend, but he had no desire to discuss his matrimonial projects with him.
“It's a great pity,” pursued the unconscious Mr. Wilks, “just as everything seemed to be going on smoothly; but while there's life there's 'ope.”
“That's a smart barge over there,” said Hardy, pointing it out.
Mr. Wilks nodded. “I shall keep my eyes open this afternoon,” he said reassuringly. “And if I get a chance of putting in a word it'll be put in. Twenty-nine years I sailed with the cap'n, and if there's anybody knows his weak spots it's me.”