And after
all,--she's only a child."
"Do you say that for your own benefit or for mine?" said Larpent, without
turning his head.
"What do you mean?" Savagely Saltash flung the question, but the man in
the chair remained unmoved.
"You know quite well what I mean," he said. "You know that it isn't
true."
"What isn't true?" Saltash came swiftly back across the room, moving as
if goaded. He took his tumbler from the mantel-piece and drank the
contents almost at a gulp. "Go on!" he said, with his back to Larpent.
"May as well finish now you've begun. What isn't true?"
Larpent lounged in his chair and watched him, absolutely unmoved.
"When a thing is actually in existence--an accomplished fact--it's rather
futile to talk of guarding against it," he said, in his brief,
unsympathetic voice. "You've been extraordinarily generous to the imp,
and it isn't surprising that she should be extraordinarily grateful. She
wouldn't be human if she weren't. 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.
Pages:
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216