“Silly of me,” said Nancy; “but I am silly sometimes.”
Mr. Carter pressed her hand again, and gazing tenderly into her eyes received a glance in return which set him thinking. It was too cold and calculating for real affection; in fact, after another glance, he began to doubt if it indicated affection at all.
“It's like old times, Bert,” said Miss Evans, with an odd smile. “Do you remember what you said that afternoon when I put the hot spoon on your neck?”
“Yes,” was the reply.
“What was it?” inquired the girl.
“I won't repeat it,” said Mr. Carter, firmly.
He was reminded of other episodes during the meal, but, by the exercise of tact and the plea of a bad memory, did fairly well. He felt that he had done very well indeed when, having cleared the tea-things away, Nancy came and sat beside him with her hand in his. Her brother grunted, but Mr. Evans, in whom a vein of sentiment still lingered, watched them with much satisfaction.
Mr. Carter had got possession of both hands and was murmuring fulsome flatteries when the sound of somebody pausing at the open door caused them to be hastily withdrawn.
“Evening, Mr. Evans,” said a young man, putting his head in. “Why, halloa! Bert! Well, of all the——”
“Halloa!” said Mr. Carter, with attempted enthusiasm, as he rose from his chair.