Allegra was not the less curious about Captain Hulbert, although his celibate mission had been frequently expounded to her. She was interested in him because she liked his face, because he was Lostwithiel’s brother, because he was sailing a very beautiful yacht, because he had appeared in her life with a romantic suddenness, sailing out of the sea unheralded and unexpected, like a man who had dropped from the moon.
She fell asleep that night wondering if she would ever see him again—if the Vendetta would have vanished from the harbour to-morrow at noontide, like a boat that had only lived in her dreams; or whether the yacht would still be anchored there in the haven under the hill. And, if so, whether Captain Hulbert would call at the Angler’s Nest, and tell them about Lostwithiel’s South American adventures, and how he came to be skipper of his brother’s yacht.
At breakfast next morning, Colonel Disney’s talk was chiefly about Captain Hulbert. The colonel had been for an early walk, and had seen the Vendetta from the little Quay at Fowey, by the Mechanics’ Institute, and had heard who was the skipper.
“I remember him when he and his brother were at Eton together—nice boys—capital boys, both of them—but I liked Jack Hulbert better than Lostwithiel. He was franker, more spontaneous and impulsive. Yes, Jack was my favourite, and everybody else’s favourite, I think, when the two were boys. I saw very little of them after they grew up. I was away with my regiment, and Jack was away with his ship, and Lostwithiel was wandering up and down the earth, like Satan. I left a card for Captain Hulbert at the club, asking him to dinner this evening. You don’t mind, do you, Isola?”
Isola had no objection to offer, and Allegra was delighted at the prospect of seeing more of the man with the nice frank countenance, and that seafaring air which most women like.
“I am a dreadful person for being influenced by first impressions,” she said, “and that one glance at Captain Hulbert in the moonlight assures me that I shall like him.”
“Don’t like him too well,” said Martin, laughingly, “for I’m afraid he’s a detrimental, and would make even a worse match than Colfox, who may be a bishop one day, while Hulbert has left the navy, and is never likely to be anything.”
“Match! detrimental!” cried Allegra, indignantly. “Can it be my brother who talks in such a vulgar strain? As if a woman could not look at a man without thinking of marrying him!”
“Some women can’t,” answered Martin. “With them every free man is a possible husband—indeed, I believe there are some who cannot look at a married man without estimating the chances of the divorce court—if the man is what they call a catch.”