a man of your varying moods."

Saltash's laugh had a curious jarring sound as of something broken. "Oh,
you think that would be a suitable arrangement, do you? And how long do
you think I should stick to her? How long would it be before she ran
away?"

"I never speculate so far as you are concerned," said Larpent, shaking
the tobacco back into his pouch with care.

"You think it wouldn't matter, perhaps?" gibed Saltash. "My royal house
is so inured to scandal that no one would expect anything else?"

"I don't think she is the sort to run away," said Larpent quietly. "And
I'm pretty sure of one thing. You could hold her if you tried."

"An ideal arrangement!" sneered Saltash. "And I should then settle down
to a godly, righteous, and sober life, I suppose? Is that the idea?"

"You said it," observed Larpent, pushing his pipe into his mouth.

Saltash lodged one foot on the high fender, and stared at it. The sneer
died out of his face and the old look, half mischievous, half melancholy,
took its pace. "I haven't--seriously--contemplated marriage for eight
years," he said, his mouth twitching a little as with a smile suppressed.
"Not since the day I tried to steal Maud Brian away from Jake--and
failed--rather signally. I don't think I've ever done anything quite so
low down since."

Larpent lighted his pipe with grave attention. "A good thing for you both
that you did fail!" he observed.

"Think so?" Saltash glanced at him. "Why?"

"She isn't the woman for you." Larpent spoke with the absolute conviction
of one who knows. "She has too many ideals. Now this sprat you caught at
Valrosa--has none."

"Not so sure of that," said Saltash.

"Well, no illusions anyway." There was a hint of compassion in Larpent's
voice. "It wasn't because she trusted you that she put herself under your
protection. She didn't trust you. She simply chucked herself at you with
her eyes open. Like Jonah's whale, you were the only shelter within
reach. I'd wager a substantial sum that she's never had any illusions
about you. But if you held up your little finger she'd come to you. She's
your property, and it isn't in her to do anything else, let her down as
often as you will."

Saltash made an excruciating grimace. "My good fellow, spare me!
That's just where the shoe pinches. I've broken faith with her already.
But--damnation!--what else could I do? I didn't choose the part of
virtuous hero. It was thrust upon me. The gods are making spor