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 eager face had the delicate flush of a wild rose. The hair clustered about her temples in tender ringlets of gold. Her eyes, blue and shining, gave her the look of a child just awakened from happy sleep--a child that expects to be lifted up and kissed. "By--Jove!" murmured Bunny under his breath, staring openly. "By--Jove!" And these words failed him. He had never been so astounded in his life. This girl--this funny little Toby with the sharp features and pointed chin, the girl-urchin with whom he had chaffed and played--was actually a beauty, and till that amazing moment he had not realized the fact.