Again the girl’s lip curled.  She said nothing for a moment, then deliberately, for the first time in her life, she snubbed him.  “No, I should never try to charm—­a beast, Lord Saltash.”

“You prefer them savage?” countered Saltash.

She made a careless gesture with one hand, without replying.  She did not even look towards him.  “I think Miss Larpent might be quite clever in that respect,” she said.  “She is—­a born charmer.”

“By Jove!” he said.  “What a cruel compliment!”

Sheila said nothing.  She was watching a small boat rowing steadily towards them through the dark water, with eyes that were grave and fixed.

Saltash’s look followed hers, and he grimaced to himself, oddly, wryly, as a man who accomplishes a task for which he has no liking.  Then in a moment he turned the conversation.  “Did you ever meet Rozelle Daubeni, the enchantress?”

Sheila’s soft eyes came to him at the sudden question.  “No.  I have heard of her.  I have never met her.  I don’t want to meet her.  Why?”

He threw her a daring glance.  “It would do you good to meet her.  She is a born charmer if you like.  She charms women as well as men—­and beasts.”

“An adventuress!” said Sheila.

“Yes, an adventuress.  One of the most wonderful, I should say, who ever lived.  She is in Paris just now.  When she comes to England—­” again his look dared her—­“I will take you to see her.  It will be—­an education for you.”

“Thank you,” Sheila said.

He laughed aloud, and suddenly stretched his hand to her with a movement of good fellowship.  “I’m only teasing.  Don’t be cross!  I wouldn’t take you to see her for all the gold of Ophir.  She is rotten—­too rotten even for me, which is saying much.”

Sheila hesitated momentarily before she gave her hand.

“Why did you speak of her?  What brought her to your mind?”

He glanced again towards the little boat now drawing near to the yacht, but he did not answer her question till her hand met his.

“I have—­a somewhat elastic mind,” he said then, and smiled his most baffling smile.  “It was your talk of charmers that did it.  I was trying to think of all I had met.”

“All the Rozelles and the Tobies!” said Sheila, with a hard little laugh.

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 fete 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.