"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 properly--wants to earn her own living. But she's too young yet to fight the world. Larpent's a rover, he'll never settle on land. She's never had any home life, poor kid. And she wants it. You'll say it's like my damned cheek to come to you, but on my life you and Maud are the only people I can think of. There's my old friend Lady Jo--Mrs. Green as she prefers to be called--but she isn't very strong just now. I can't bother her. Besides she hasn't got a home like yours. She's up in town." The jerky utterance came to an end. Saltash turned his head towards Jake, watching him half furtively through the smoke. There followed a silence of some duration. Jake's brows were slightly drawn. He spoke at last, slowly and softly as his manner was. "Are you suggesting that--Captain Larpent's daughter--should come to us?" "She'd be useful enough," said Saltash in his quick, vehement way. "She'd help Maud with the children. There's nothing she wouldn't do. It would be a kindness on your part, and you wouldn't regret it. She's a taking little thing. I'd like you to have her for a month, and if you don't want to keep her after that--well--shunt her back on to Larpent. He'll be well by that time. If he isn't--I'll look after her till he is." "Who's looking after her now?" said Jake. "Where is she?"