“Not that,” said Mr. Nugent, whose intellect had suddenly become painfully acute—“not her?”
“Why not?” inquired the other.
Mr. Nugent leaned back in his chair and regarded him with an air of kindly interest. “Well, there's no need for you to worry about my father for that,” he said; “he would raise no objection.”
“Eh?” said Hardy, starting up from his chair.
“He would welcome it,” said Mr. Nugent, positively. “There is nothing that he would like better; and I don't mind telling you a secret—she likes you.”
Hardy reddened. “How do you know?” he stammered.
“I know it for a fact,” said the other, impressively. “I have heard her say so. But you've been very plain-spoken about me, Jem, so that I shall say what I think.”
“Do,” said his bewildered friend.
“I think you'd be throwing yourself away,” said Nugent; “to my mind it's a most unsuitable match in every way. She's got no money, no looks, no style. Nothing but a good kind heart rather the worse for wear. I suppose you know she's been married once?”
“What!” shouted the other. “Married?”