She was silent. Very slowly her eyes left his. She drooped forward as she sat.
He leaned down to her again, his face oddly sympathetic. "After all,—you claimed my protection," he said.
She made a sudden movement. She turned sharply, almost blindly. She caught him by the shoulders. "Oh, Charles!" she said. "Charles Rex! Is there no mercy no honour—in you?"
There was a passion of supplication in her voice and action. As she held him he could have clasped her in his arms. But he did not. He sat motionless, looking at her, his expression still monkey-like, half-wicked, half-wistful.
"Well, you shouldn't tempt me, Juliette," he said. "It isn't fair to a miserable sinner. You were always the cherry just out of reach. Naturally, I'm inclined to snatch when I find I can."
Juliet was trembling, but she controlled her agitation.
"No, that isn't allowed," she said. "It isn't the game. And you never—seriously—wanted me either."
"But I'm never serious!" protested Saltash. "Neither are you. It's your one solid virtue."
"I am serious now," she said.
He looked at her quizzically. "Somehow it suits you. Well, listen, Juliette! I'll strike a bargain with you. When you are through with this, you will come with me for that cruise in the Night Moth. Come! Promise!"