an had to be. Gel like that ought
to be _married_. Mrs. Evans was very particular whom she had about.
Always had been. I knew, of course, how carefully she'd been brought up.
A lady. There was something about that gel ... no, he never could give
it a name, but he didn't like it. Bad for the kid. Children _knew_. And
they were the devil for picking things up. Here was Angelina, only the
other night, getting him into a regular pickle because she'd heard him
say 'damn' and brought it out plump in front of Mrs. Evans. Couldn't be
too careful. Fancy a kid that age saying a thing like that--'Damn
by-bye, damn by-bye!' Jack's eyes grew larger and more prominent. Mrs.
Evans had been very upset when he had remarked irascibly that a ship was
no place for a child anyway. No more it was. 'Fred'--(I could see this
coming, mind you, a week before)--'Fred, my boy,' said he, 'I shall be
glad when we get home. I can see it now. It's a mistake. I always said
so when the commander brought his wife along.' It didn't do to take a
woman away from where she belonged. She saw too much, as well. What did
I think she said the other day? A fact. 'You and Mr. Spenlove don't seem
to me to _do_ much.' Think of that! And sometimes he wondered if she
didn't pay more attention to that infernal pier-head jumper, Bloom, than
to her own husband. I should hear him at the cabin table--'When _I_ was
commander, Mrs. Evans, I always insisted on the junior officers
overseeing the routine of the ship. When _I_ was commander, I made it a
rule that engineers should keep to their own part of the ship.' It was
enough to make a man sick, but women didn't know any better.... Glad to
get home. Was I going to Threxford?
"Well, no, I didn't go down to Threxford. I went to the station to see
them off from Glasgow, though. Mrs. Evans held up the angel child for me
to kiss. 'Kiss Mr. Spenlove, Babsy, darling.' The youngster favoured me
with one of her bold, predatory stares as she desisted from torturing
her immense teddy bear for a moment. I had a sudden and disconcerting
vision of Jack's daughter as she would be-well, as she is to-day, I
expect ... a robust, self-centred, expensively attired autocrat, ruling
her parents, her friends, and her adorers with the smooth efficiency of
a healthy tigress. Jack once muttered to me that she'd 'knock the men
over' and he seemed to take a certain grim relish in contemplating the
future overthrow of the love-sick swains. And I saw in
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