Captain Peirce did not pull his moustache—partly because it was not the fashion to do so, but yet more for the sufficient reason that he had none to pull. He bent a little nearer to Polly; and that was the moment when Jack’s glance followed Molly’s in their direction.
Polly did not appear to repulse him. She did not even exert herself to turn her head away. She had so much of this sort of thing! One flowery speech more or less made very little difference. Had it not been for the persistent pressure put upon her by Mrs. Bryce, Polly would not have imagined that Captain Peirce meant or could mean anything seriously. She stood in one of her most graceful attitudes, toying with a large fan; and the light from innumerable wax candles fell upon her round fair arms.
“Can you by any chance divine who that star of greatest magnitude may be, sweet Polly?”
This was audacious, and Captain Peirce fully expected a rebuff in consequence.
It did not come so soon as he expected. A thrill ran through Polly, almost amounting to a shiver. She too was instantaneously carried back, as a few minutes earlier Molly had been, bridging at a leap four long slow years.
“Sweet Polly, may I speak?” Captain Ivor had said.
The voices were different. Ivor’s was deep and quiet, with clear enunciation; while that of Captain Peirce was some semitones higher in key, with a rapid and rather indistinct intonation.
The other face too came up before Polly’s mind—a face generally of still outlines, grave and handsome, with eyes which looked other men straight in the face, and level brows, not quick to frown, though when they did frown there was no mistake about the matter, and a smile as quiet as his voice. Captain Peirce was of smaller and slighter make, and his features, as well as his tones, underwent much more rapid changes. An impulsive man altogether; not bad-looking; and he had a certain fascination of manner too, when he chose to exert it. Polly was not oblivious to the fascination while it lasted. Perhaps she liked his unequivocal admiration, and did not dislike to feel her power over him. But that flash of vivid recollection—did it arise from some subtle connection between her mind and Molly’s?—brought with it a totally different look from any that Captain Peirce had seen upon her face. Perhaps he might be excused for imagining that the change of expression was due to his own words.
“Sweet Polly, you will not be one of the cruel fair, who——”
This was going too far. Polly woke from her dream. She withdrew one step, and dropped a suggestion of a curtsey.