The old mocking smile gleamed in Saltash's eyes. "Yes, I mean that," he said. "Do you believe me, Larpent?"
"Believe you, my lord?" Larpent seemed to hesitate.
The hand that held him moved with a hint of impatience. "I am asking," said Saltash royally, "if you consider that my protection is adequate for—my wife."
"Your—wife!" Larpent started in sharp surprise. "Your wife, did you say?"
Saltash broke into a chuckle and dropped his hand from his captain's shoulder. "Yes, just that," he said. "You are behind the times, my friend. Are you going to congratulate me? We were married four days ago."
Larpent's hand came out to him abruptly. "It's the best thing you've ever done, my lord," he said. "And you will never regret it."
"What makes you say that?" said Saltash curiously.
Their hands gripped and fell apart. Larpent answered him in the brief fashion of the man whose words are few. "Mainly because you loved her enough to marry her when you could have had her without."
Saltash's laugh had the old derisive ring but there was no corresponding gleam of mockery in his eyes as he turned carelessly aside. "What is this thing called love?" he said.