"I know him," she said with simplicity.
"I see." His smile became a little more marked. "Did he ever tell you the funny story of my double?" he asked.
She gave a great start, and in a moment her face was burning.
"I see," he said again. "You needn't answer. And you tell me that I have no right to cherish a grudge against him."
She spoke with difficulty. "He did not accuse you of anything."
Saltash laughed. "Left you to draw your own conclusions, eh? Score number one! And after that, when he knew that I was coming home, when he knew that you were mine for the asking, didn't he race you into marriage with him before you had time to find your breath?"
Her face burned more hotly. "Wouldn't you have done the same?" she said.
He looked sardonic. "You must remember that I am not--a white man, my queen of the roses. My standards won't compare with his. Score number two then! And hasn't he baulked me at every turn ever since? When have I ever got back any of my own--except once when I made you see him as he wasn't--a drunkard, and except when one night of moonshine I held you in my arms and you gave your lips to mine?" His voice suddenly thrilled.
She caught her breath sharply. "I was mad!" she said. "I was mad!"
She would have withdrawn her hands from his, but he frustrated her. A gleam of mischief flashed in his eyes. "No, Maud of the roses, it was just--a dream. Have you never said to yourself, That was the happiest dream of my life?"