y about his voice;
it seemed to cut the silence. "Why the devil do you tell me this? Can't
you see that it's the very thing I'm guarding against? Young Bunny is
the best remedy she could take for a disease of that kind. And after
all,--she's only a child."

"Do you say that for your own benefit or for mine?" said Larpent, without
turning his head.

"What do you mean?" Savagely Saltash flung the question, but the man in
the chair remained unmoved.

"You know quite well what I mean," he said. "You know that it isn't
true."

"What isn't true?" Saltash came swiftly back across the room, moving as
if goaded. He took his tumbler from the mantel-piece and drank the
contents almost at a gulp. "Go on!" he said, with his back to Larpent.
"May as well finish now you've begun. What isn't true?"

Larpent lounged in his chair and watched him, absolutely unmoved.

"When a thing is actually in existence--an accomplished fact--it's rather
futile to talk of guarding against it," he said, in his brief,
unsympathetic voice. "You've been extraordinarily generous to the imp,
and it isn't surprising that she should be extraordinarily grateful. She
wouldn't be human if she weren't. But when it comes to handing her on to
another fellow--well, she may consent, but it won't be because she wants
to, but because it's the only thing left. She knows well enough by this
time that what she really wants is out of her reach."

Again Saltash made a fierce movement, but he did not turn or speak.

Larpent took out his pipe and began to fill it. "You've been too good a
friend to her," he went on somewhat grimly, "and you're not made of the
right stuff for that sort of thing. I'm sorry for the kid because she's a
bit of a pagan too, and it's hard to have to embrace respectability
whether you want to or not."

"Oh, damn!" Saltash exclaimed, suddenly and violently. "What more could
any man have done? What the devil are you driving at?"

He turned upon Larpent almost menacingly, and found the steady eyes,
still with that icy glint of humour in them, unflinchingly awaiting his
challenge.

"You want to get married," the sailor said imperturbably. "Why in the
name of all the stars of destiny don't you marry her? She may not have
the blue blood in her veins, but blood isn't everything, and you've got
enough for two. And it's my opinion you'd find her considerably easier to
please than some--less strict in her views too, which is always an
advantage to