"No good expecting too much," said Larpent.
"True!" said Saltash. "On the other hand it isn't always wise to be too easily satisfied." His look became suddenly speculative. "Have you ever been in love, Larpent?"
The big man in the deck-chair made a sharp movement and spilt some cigar-ash on his coat. He sat up deliberately and brushed it off. Saltash watched him with mischievous eyes.
"Well?" he said.
Larpent leaned back again, puffing forth a thick cloud of smoke. "Once," he said briefly.
"Only once?" gibed Saltash. "Man alive! Why, I've had the disease scores of times, and you are half a generation older than I am!"
"I know," Larpent's eyes dwelt unblinking upon the sparkling blue of the water beyond the rail. "You've had it so often that you take it lightly."
Saltash laughed. "You apparently took it like the plague."
"I didn't die of it," said Larpent grimly.
"Perhaps the lady did!" suggested Saltash.