Hardy thanked him at great length, wondering, as he spoke, whether Miss Nugent was of punctual habits. He leaned back in his chair and, folding his arms, gazed thoughtfully at the perturbed Mr. Wilks.
"You must come round and smoke a pipe with me sometimes," he said, casually.
Mr. Wilks flushed with gratified pride. He had a vision of himself walking up to the front door of the Hardys, smoking a pipe in a well-appointed room, and telling an incredulous and envious Fullalove Alley about it afterwards.
"I shall be very pleased, sir," he said, impressively.
"Come round on Tuesday," said his visitor. "I shall be at home then."
Mr. Wilks thanked him and, spurred on to hospitality, murmured something about a glass of ale, and retired to the back to draw it. He came back with a jug and a couple of glasses, and draining his own at a draught, hoped that the example would not be lost upon his visitor. That astute person, however, after a modest draught, sat still, anchored to the half-empty glass.
"I'm expecting somebody to-night," 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.