There is the real nobleman.
Fleetwood chatted on airily.

His instincts were duller than those of the black-browed girl, at whom he gazed for idle satisfaction of eye from time to time while she replied demurely and maintained her drama of, the featureless but well-distinguished actors within her bosom,--a round, plump bust, good wharfage and harbourage, he was thinking.

Excellent harbourage, supposing the arms out in pure good-will.

A girl to hold her voyager fast and safe! Men of her class had really a capital choice in a girl like this.

Men of another class as well, possibly, for temporary anchorage out midchannel.