Saltash's brows went up. "Satisfied?" he questioned curtly.
"On that point, yes." Jake continued to look at him with a close and searching regard.
"Not on all points?" Saltash flicked the ash from his cigarette with a movement of exasperation.
Jake turned and slowly walked to the window. There fell a silence between them. He stood staring down upon the scene that Toby had gazed upon a little earlier, but he saw nothing of it. The hardness had gone out of his face, and a deep compassion had taken its place.
Saltash continued to smoke for several restless seconds. Finally, he dropped the end of his cigarette into a tray and spoke.
"Anything more I can do for you?"
Jake wheeled in his massive way, and came back. "Say!" he said slowly.
"I'm kind of sorry for that little girl."
Saltash made an abrupt movement that passed unexplained. "Well?" he said.
Jake faced him squarely. "If I'd been at home," he said, "this would never have happened. Or if it had happened—if it had happened—" He paused.
"You'd have made a point of coming to the wedding?" suggested Saltash.