shamefaced.

"It'll come to the same thing," said Jake.

Saltash's eyes flashed upwards. He met Jake's look almost with defiance.
"Doubtless you are master in your own house, Jake," he said. "Far be it
from me to question it."

"I didn't mean that," said Jake. "What I meant was," the red-brown eyes
began to smile, "that Maud and I are friends--and we generally want the
same thing."

Saltash nodded. "Not so bad after eight years," he said.

"No. It's pretty great," said Jake. "You'd think we were an ill-matched
pair, wouldn't you? But we've learnt to plough as straight a furrow as
anyone."

"No, I don't think you ill-matched," said Saltash unexpectedly. "You've
always been about the same height and breadth, my friend. I saw that a
long time ago. The luckiest day that ever dawned for Maud was the one on
which you cut me out."

"Think so?" said Jake. "Well, it wasn't a very lucky one for you, I'm
afraid."

"I got over it," said Saltash lightly. "I'm too great a rotter, you know,
Jake, to take things much to heart. I've loved heaps of women since--even
some good ones. But they never take me seriously; so I presume I shall
continue to rot."

"Thought you'd turned sober," suggested Jake.

Again Saltash's look dwelt upon the ruby drain in his wine-glass. For a
moment the restlessness of his face deepened to something very nearly
approaching melancholy.

"I'm tired, Jake," he said abruptly. "I've run through the whole gamut of
amusements, and I'm bored to the soul. I want to do a good turn to
somebody--just for a change--to see what it feels like. Perhaps--who
knows--it may take the taste of rottenness out of my mouth. You fellows
who lead a decent, orderly life don't know what it is when the wine turns
to vinegar and all the sweets of life to gall."

"Sounds pretty damnable," said Jake.

Saltash grimaced like a weary monkey. "It's dust and ashes, my good Jake.
But we won't discuss it. Let's come to business! You know Larpent--my
captain--quite one of the best?"

Jake nodded. "I've met him--yes."

Saltash flung himself back in his chair smoking rapidly. "He was damaged
when the yacht went down. He's in a nursing home in town, getting better.
He's got a daughter--a girl called Antoinette. She's been at school in
France, and Larpent was bringing her home in the yacht when we went down.
She's nineteen--a jolly little thing--half French. Larpent doesn't know
what to do with her. He has no people. She--quite prop