"You know that?" Bunny's voice was hoarse. There was torture in his eyes.
"Man—for God's sake—the truth!"
"It is the truth," Saltash said.
"How do you know it? You've no proof. How can you be sure?" He could not help the anguish of his voice. The words fell harsh and strained.
"How do I know it?" Saltash echoed the words sharply. "What proof? Bunny, you fool, do you know so little of the world—of women—as that? What proof do you need? Just—look into her eyes!"
A queer note of passion sounded in his own voice, and it told Bunny very clearly that he was grappling with the naked truth at last. It arrested him in a moment. He suddenly found that he could go no further. There was no need.
Impulsively, with an inarticulate word of apology, he thrust out his hand. Saltash's came to meet it in a swift, hard grip.
"Enough?" he asked, with that odd, smiling grimace of his that revealed so little.
And, "Yes, enough!" Bunny said, looking him straight in the face.
They parted almost without words a few minutes later. There was no more to be said.