n't it?
But you won't give me away? We've never done it since."

"I shan't give anyone away," said Larpent grimly.

"Good! You're a sport, I can see."

The genuine appreciation in Bunny's voice brought an icy glimmer of
amusement to the elder man's eyes, but he made no verbal comment.

Again a silence fell, and Bunny came strolling back, a smile on his
handsome boyish face.

"Fine place this," he remarked presently. "It's a pity Saltash is here so
little. He only comes about three times a year, and then only for a
couple of nights at a time. There's heaps of game in the woods and no one
to shoot it."

"He probably knows his own business best," remarked Larpent.

"Oh, probably. But the place is wasted on him for all that." Bunny spoke
with a frown. "Why on earth he doesn't marry and settle down I can't
think. Can't you persuade him to?"

"No," said Larpent quite definitely.

Bunny glanced at him. "I don't know why not. I know he's considered to
have gone the pace a bit, but after all he's no worse than a hundred
others. Why the devil shouldn't he marry?"

Larpent shrugged his shoulders. "Don't ask me!" he said.

"Well, he ought to," maintained Bunny. "If you have any influence with
him, you ought to persuade him to."

"I haven't," said Larpent.

Bunny flung away impatiently. "It's a confounded shame--a gorgeous family
place like this and no one but servants to live in it!"

"It is, isn't it?" gibed Saltash, unexpectedly entering from the further
door. "Large enough for fifty wives, eh, Bunny? Well, as I said before,
you get married and I'll adopt you. It'll save me a lot of trouble.
You're so keen on recommending the marriage medicine to other people. Try
it yourself, and see how you like it!"

He walked straight down the long room with the words, passing both
Larpent and Bunny on his way, pausing by neither. "I like to hear you two
discussing my case," he jested. "You, Bunny, who have never had the great
disease, and Larpent who has never got over it!"

He approached the open door that led out upon the great staircase, the
jest still on his lips and the laughter in his eyes. He reached it and
stretched out both hands with a fine gesture of greeting.

"Welcome to my poor hovel!" he said. "Madam, I kneel at your feet."

A clear high laugh answered him from below, and both of his companions
turned sharply at the sound.

A figure in white, girlish, fresh as the morning, sprang suddenly into
view. Her