Jake's eyes had the glimmer of a smile as he met the boy's hot look. "I think you don't love her now anyway, Bunny," he said.
"You're quite right," said Bunny shortly. "I don't. I never want to see her again—now I know what she is."
"You don't know," said Jake. "She has always been an unknown quantity to you. That's why I've always felt doubtful about you. Guess you never loved her quite enough, boy. That was your trouble."
"Didn't love her!" ejaculated Bunny.
Jake nodded. "Or you'd have understood her better—stood by her better."
"I'd have loved her fast enough if she'd loved me," protested Bunny. "But that scoundrel always came first with her. I never had a chance."
"Oh yes, you had." Again the faint smile showed for an instant in the elder man's eyes. "Not much of one, perhaps, but you had a chance. If she'd been quite sure of you, she wouldn't have run away."
"Wouldn't she? Then she can't be very sure of Saltash either." Bunny spoke with a certain gloomy triumph.
Jake blew forth a cloud of smoke and watched it rise thoughtfully. "I'm waiting for Saltash," he said. "I've got him on test."
"You believe in him?" questioned Bunny contemptuously.