"Nay, Jack is nobody. Jack is one of ourselves—a genteel young fellow enough, but better than Jack awaits you this evening."
"Bob!" with equal rapidity.
"Bob Monke is well enough in his way too; but you must go further afield, child. Eh, Polly—what if it be Captain Peirce?"
"Captain Peirce better than Jack or than Bob? Nay!" Molly said indignantly.
Polly's colour went up again, as it was wont to do on slight provocation, delicately and prettily. She also tossed her head, and arranged the light scarf which covered her shoulders.
"Captain Peirce is welcome, if he so choose, ma'am," she replied carelessly.
"I do not like Captain Peirce," murmured Molly.
"Nobody desired you to like Captain Peirce, my dear Molly. 'Tis vastly more to the point whether Polly likes him, since of a certainty Captain Peirce's affections are engaged in a certain direction, which may be named without difficulty. Captain Peirce is a prodigious favourite with everybody—especially, I can assure you, with all the young women of mode. And he has eyes for none of 'em except Polly."
Polly looked studiously on the floor, and Molly frowned.
"If Captain Peirce were what a man should be, he would never, sure, come after Polly as he does, knowing that Polly is promised to another, and he out of reach."