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.
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