Things went on in the same way till the night before the morning on which they were to enter Hobson’s Bay.  Hobson’s Bay, as every one knows, is the inlet of the sea into which the little river runs on which Melbourne is built.  After leaving the tropics they had gone down south, and had encountered showers and wind, and cold weather, but now they had come up again into warm latitudes and fine autumn weather,—­for it was the beginning of March, and the world out there is upside down.  Before that evening nothing had been said between Mrs Smith and John Caldigate as to any future; not a word to indicate that when the journey should be over, there would or that there would not be further intercourse between them.  She had purposely avoided any reference to a world after this world of the ship, even refusing, in her half-sad but half-joking manner, to discuss matters so far ahead.  But he felt that he could not leave her on board, as he would the other passengers, without a word spoken as to some future meeting.  There will arrive on occasions a certain pitch of intimacy,—­which cannot be defined as may a degree of cousinship, but which is perfectly understood by the persons concerned;—­so close as to forbid such mere shaking of the hands.  There are many men, and perhaps more women, cautious enough and wise enough to think of this beforehand, and, thinking of it, to guard themselves from the dangerous attractions of casual companions by a composed manner and unenthusiastic conversation.  Who does not know the sagacious lady who, after sitting at table with the same gentleman for a month, can say, ’Good-bye, Mr. Jones,’ just as though Mr. Jones had been a stranger under her notice but for a day.  But others gush out, and when Mr. Jones takes his departure, hardly know how not to throw themselves into his arms.  The intercourse between our hero and Mrs. Smith had been such that, as a gentleman, he could not leave her without some allusion to future meetings.  That was all up to the evening before their arrival.  The whole ship’s company, captain, officers, quarter-masters, passengers, and all, were quite sure that she had succeeded in getting a promise of marriage from him.  But there had been nothing of the kind.

Among others, Dick Shand was sure that there was some entanglement.  Entanglement was the word he always used in discussing the matter with Mrs. Callander.  Between Dick and his friend there had been very little confidential communication of late.  Caldigate had forbidden Shand to talk to him about Mrs. Smith, and thus had naturally closed the man’s mouth on other matters.  And then they had fallen into different sets.  Dick, at least, had fallen into a set, while Caldigate had hardly associated with any but the one dangerous friend.  Dick had lived much with a bevy of noisy young men who had been given to games and smoking, and to a good deal of drink.  Caldigate had said not a word, even when on one occasion Dick had stumbled down into the cabin very much the worse for what he had taken.  How could he find fault with Dick’s folly when he would not allow Dick to say a word to him as to his own?  But on this last day at sea it became necessary that they should understand each other.