He gripped her hand and released it. "I have never met more than one of each," he said. "Which may be the secret of their charm. Don't class them together in your mind for a moment! Larpent's daughter may be a born charmer. Young Bunny Brian seems to think so at any rate. But she is not—and never will be—an adventuress."
"Is Bunny Brian fond of her—really fond of her?" asked Sheila.
Saltash nodded. "Sure thing—as Jake would say! And he's a sound chap too. I hope he'll get her."
"She is not very likely to refuse," said Sheila, turning from the rail.
The little boat had passed out of sight under the lee of the yacht. A great rocket whistled skywards, and broke in a violet flare that lighted sea and shore. The fête was over, and people were crowding on board. The band was playing a selection from a comic opera, and a few voices were singing the careless, sentimental words.
Saltash turned with his companion. "And now we are going to supper at The Anchor. I must get Mrs. Bolton to lead the way. Poor Jake is bored to the soul, but he's facing it like a man. Fine fellow—Jake."
"Oh, is he a friend of yours?" Sheila asked. "A very particular friend, I mean?"
Saltash grimaced to the stars. "No, I don't think so. Ask Jake! He knows me better than some, that's all. And I know him."
They left the yacht's rail and joined the on-coming throng. It was like a scene out of a fairy tale—the gaudy Chinese lanterns bobbing to and fro, the gaily-coloured crowd, the shining white yacht rocking gently on the noiseless swell. Everyone was laughing. Some were singing. There was not a serious face to be seen in all the crowd that poured over the red-carpeted gangway from the quay.
"Where is Toby?" said Maud.