“Very smart,” he said, shortly.

“It was successful,” said the other, modestly.

“Very,” said the captain, as he rose and confronted him.  “I am much obliged, of course, for the trouble you have taken in the affairs of my family.  And now I will remind you of our agreement.”

“Agreement?” repeated the other.

The captain nodded.  “Your visits to me were to cease when this marriage happened, if I wished it,” he said, slowly.

“That was the arrangement,” said the dumb-founded Hardy, “but I had hoped——.  Besides, it has all taken place much sooner than I had anticipated.”

“That was the bargain,” said the captain, stiffly.  “And now I’ll bid you good-day.”

“I am sorry that my presence should be so distasteful to you,” said the mortified Hardy.

“Distasteful, sir?” said the captain, sternly.  “You have forced yourself on me for twice a week for some time past.  You have insisted upon talking on every subject under the sun, whether I liked it or not.  You have taken every opportunity of evading my wishes that you should not see my daughter, and you wonder that I object to you.  For absolute brazenness you beat anything I have ever encountered.”

“I am sorry,” said Hardy, again.

“Good evening,” said the captain

“Good evening.”

Crestfallen and angry Hardy moved to the door, pausing with his hand on it as the captain spoke again.

“One word more,” said the older man, gazing at him oddly as he stroked his grey beard; “if ever you try to come bothering me with your talk again I’ll forbid you the house.”

“Forbid me the house?” repeated the astonished Hardy.

“That’s what I said,” replied the other; “that’s plain English, isn’t it?”

Hardy looked at him in bewilderment; then, as the captain’s meaning dawned upon him, he stepped forward impulsively and, seizing his hand, began to stammer out incoherent thanks.

“You’d better clear before I alter my mind,” said Captain Nugent, roughly.  “I’ve had more than enough of you.  Try the garden, if you like.”

He took up a paper from the table and resumed his seat, not without a grim smile at the promptitude with which the other obeyed his instructions.

Miss Nugent, reclining in a deck-chair at the bottom of the garden, looked up as she heard Hardy’s footstep on the gravel.  It was a surprising thing to see him walking down the garden; it was still more surprising to observe the brightness of his eye and the easy confidence of his bearing.  It was evident that he was highly pleased with himself, and she was not satisfied until she had ascertained the reason.  Then she sat silent, reflecting bitterly on the clumsy frankness of the male sex in general and fathers in particular.  A recent conversation with the captain, in which she had put in a casual word or two in Hardy’s favour, was suddenly invested with a new significance.