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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.
"A good thing too!" declared Bunny stoutly. The echoes of Toby's laughter as she went down the chill, dark stairway had an eerie quality that sent an odd shiver through his heart. Somehow it made him think of the unquiet spirit that was said to haunt the place a spirit that wandered alone always alone in the utter desolation. "How long is this absurd farce to go on?" said Larpent.
He never pretended to love me." "No," said Larpent, with grim certitude. "He isn't pretending this time." She stared at him, wide-eyed, motionless. "Not pretending? What do you mean? Please what do you mean?" He held out his hand. "Good-bye!" he said abruptly. "I mean just that." Her lips were parted to say more, but something in his face or action checked her. She put her hand into his.
You for instance you, the captain of a private yacht when you ought to be roving the high seas in a Flying Dutchman! You probably were a few generations ago." "Ah!" Larpent said, through a cloud of smoke. "Life isn't what it was." "It's an infernal fraud, most of it," said Saltash. "Always promising and seldom fulfilling!" "No good expecting too much," said Larpent. "True!" said Saltash.
"There's a cure for most things," he observed. "Can the Ethiopian change his skin?" gibed Saltash. Larpent was silent for a space. Then: "A painful process no doubt!" he said. "But more wonderful things have happened." "Pshaw!" said Saltash. Nevertheless when Larpent rose a little later and bade him good-night, he reached up a couple of fingers in careless comradeship. "Good-night, old fellow!
As he went forward to greet her, he saw that Larpent was staring also, and he chuckled inwardly at the sight. Decidedly it must be a worse shock for Larpent than it was for himself, he reflected. For at least he had seen her in the chrysalis stage, though most certainly he had never expected this wonderful butterfly to emerge.
"How that little Larpent girl changes! She is like a piece of quicksilver. There's no getting hold of her. How old is she?" "She is nearly twenty," said Bunny with the swiftness of ownership. "Nearly twenty! You don't say so! She might be fourteen at the present moment. Look at that! Look at it!"
Larpent nodded twice thoughtfully, more as if in answer to some mental suggestion than as if the words had been actually uttered. He struck a match and held it for Saltash. Then, as he deliberately lighted his own cigarette, between slow puffs he spoke: "There was only one reason on earth that would have brought me." "Yes?" said Saltash.
Larpent leaned back again, puffing forth a thick cloud of smoke. "Once," he said briefly. "Only once?" gibed Saltash. "Man alive! Why, I've had the disease scores of times, and you are half a generation older than I am!" "I know," Larpent's eyes dwelt unblinking upon the sparkling blue of the water beyond the rail. "You've had it so often that you take it lightly." Saltash laughed.
"How very good she must be," said little Meta, quickly and softly; and a tear was sparkling on her eyelashes. "She is indeed," said Norman earnestly. "I don't know what papa would do but for her." Mrs. Larpent asked kind questions whether his father's arm was very painful, and the hopes of its cure; and he felt as if she was a great friend already. Thence they came to books.
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