"But you're not going to stay in it," said Maud.
He turned and looked down at her, one eyebrow cocked at a comic angle. "Ma belle reine, if you can help us to climb out, you will earn my undying gratitude."
She met his look with her steadfast eyes. "Charlie, do you know that night after night she cries as if her poor little heart were broken?"
Saltash's eyebrow descended again. He scowled hideously. "Mais pourquoi? I have not broken it. I have never even made love to her."
Maud's face was very compassionate. "Perhaps that is why. She is so young—so forlorn—and so miserable. Is it quite impossible for you to forgive her?"
"Forgive her!" said Saltash. "Does she want to be forgiven?"
"She is fretting herself ill over it," Maud said. "I can't bear to see her. No, she has told me nothing—except that she is waiting for you to throw her off—to divorce her. Charlie, you wouldn't do that even if you could!"
Saltash was silent; the scowl still upon his face.
"Tell me you wouldn't!" she urged.
His odd eyes met hers with a shifting gleam of malice. "There is only one reason for which I would do that, ma chère," he said. "So she has not told you why she ran away with my friend Spentoli?"