“I'm expecting somebody tonight,” said the ex-steward, at last.
“No doubt you have a lot of visitors,” said the other, admiringly.
Mr. Wilks did not deny it. He eyed his guest's glass and fidgeted.
“Miss Nugent is coming,” he said.
Instead of any signs of disorder and preparations for rapid flight, Mr. Wilks saw that the other was quite composed. He began to entertain a poor idea of Mr. Hardy's memory.
“She generally comes for a little quiet chat,” he said.
“Indeed!”
“Just between the two of us,” said the other.
His visitor said “Indeed,” and, as though some chord of memory had been touched, sat gazing dreamily at Mr. Wilks's horticultural collection in the window. Then he changed colour a little as a smart hat and a pretty face crossed the tiny panes. Mr. Wilks changed colour too, and in an awkward fashion rose to receive Miss Nugent.
“Late as usual, Sam,” said the girl, sinking into a chair. Then she caught sight of Hardy, who was standing by the door.