“Sorry?” repeated the captain, sharply.  “What for?”

“Because he hasn’t got a nice, kind, soft-spoken father,” said Miss Nugent, squeezing his arm affectionately.

The appearance of the other couple at the head of the path saved the captain the necessity of a retort.  They stood in a little knot talking, but Miss Nugent, contrary to her usual habit, said but little.  She was holding her father’s arm and gazing absently at the dim fields stretching away beyond the garden.

At the same time Mr. James Hardy, feeling, despite his bold front, somewhat badly snubbed, was sitting on the beach thinking over the situation.  After a quarter of an hour in the company of Kate Nugent all else seemed sordid and prosaic; his own conduct in his attempt to save her brother from the consequences of his folly most sordid of all.  He wondered, gloomily, what she would think when she heard of it.

[Illustration:  “He wondered, gloomily, what she would think when she heard of it.”]

He rose at last and in the pale light of the new moon walked slowly along towards the town.  In his present state of mind he wanted to talk about Kate Nugent, and the only person who could be depended upon for doing that was Samson Wilks.  It was a never-tiring subject of the steward’s, and since his discovery of the state of Hardy’s feelings in that quarter the slightest allusion was sufficient to let loose a flood of reminiscences.

It was dark by the time Hardy reached the alley, and in most of the houses the lamps were lit behind drawn blinds.  The steward’s house, however, was in darkness and there was no response when he tapped.  He turned the handle of the door and looked in.  A dim figure rose with a start from a chair.

“I hope you were not asleep?” said Hardy.

“No, sir,” said the steward, in a relieved voice.  “I thought it was somebody else.”

He placed a chair for his visitor and, having lit the lamp, slowly lowered the blind and took a seat opposite.

“I’ve been sitting in the dark to make a certain party think I was out,” he said, slowly.  “She keeps making a excuse about Teddy to come over and see me.  Last night ’e talked about making a ’ole in the water to celebrate ’Melia Kybird’s wedding, and she came over and sat in that chair and cried as if ’er ’art would break.  After she’d gone Teddy comes over, fierce as a eagle, and wants to know wot I’ve been saying to ’is mother to make ’er cry.  Between the two of ’em I ’ave a nice life of it.”

“He is still faithful to Miss Kybird, then?” said Hardy, with a sudden sense of relief.

“Faithful?” said Mr. Wilks.  “Faithful ain’t no word for it.  He’s a sticker, that’s wot ’e is, and it’s my misfortune that ’is mother takes after ’im.  I ’ave to go out afore breakfast and stay out till late at night, and even then like as not she catches me on the doorstep.”

“Well, perhaps she will make a hole in the water,” suggested Hardy.