Hardy shook his head in strong disapproval. “No man should have more than one,” he said, firmly; “a man of any strength of will wouldn’t have that.” “Strength of will?” repeated the astonished Miss Nugent. Their eyes met; hers sparkling with indignation; his full of cold calculation. If he had had any doubts before, he was quite sure now that he had gone the right way to work to attract her attention; she was almost quivering with excitement. “Your ideas will probably change with age—and disappointment,” she said, sweetly. “I shall not be disappointed,” said Hardy, coolly. “I’ll take care of that.” Miss Nugent eyed him wistfully and racked her brains for an appropriate and crushing rejoinder. In all her experience—and it was considerable considering her years—she had never met with such carefully constructed audacity, and she longed, with a great longing, to lure him into the open and destroy him. She was still considering ways and means of doing this when the door opened and revealed the surprised and angry form of her father and behind it the pallid countenance of Mr. Wilks. For a moment anger deprived the captain of utterance. “Who——” he stammered. “What——” “What a long time you’ve been, father,” said Miss Nugent, in a reproving voice. “I began to be afraid you were never going.” “You come home with me,” said the captain, recovering. The command was given in his most imperious manner, and his daughter dropped her muff in some resentment as she rose, in order to let him have the pleasure of seeing Mr. Hardy pick it up. It rolled, however, in his direction, and he stooped for it just as Hardy darted forward. Their heads met with a crash, and Miss Nugent forgot her own consternation in the joy of beholding the pitiable exhibition which terror made of Mr. Wilks. “I’m very sorry,” said Hardy, as he reverently dusted the muff on his coat-sleeve before returning it. “I’m afraid it was my fault.” “It was,” said the infuriated captain, as he held the door open for his daughter. “Now, Kate.” [Illustration: “He found his remaining guest holding his aching head beneath the tap.”] Miss Nugent passed through, followed by her father, and escorted to the front door by the steward, whose faint “Good-night” was utterly ignored by his injured commander. He stood at the door until they had turned the corner, and, returning to the kitchen, found his remaining guest holding his aching head beneath the tap. “And now,” said the captain, sternly, to his daughter, “how dare you sit and talk to that young cub? Eh? How dare you?” “He was there when I went in,” said his daughter. “Why didn’t you come out, then?” demanded her father. “I was afraid of disturbing you and Sam,” said Miss Nugent. “Besides, why shouldn’t I speak to him?” “Why?” shouted the captain. “Why? Because I won’t have it.” “I thought you liked him,” said Miss Nugent, in affected surprise. “You patted him on the head.”