“Oh, probably not,” said Saltash airily.  “But I doubt if I live to a rakish old age.  I’m a man that likes taking chances, and those who dice with the high gods are bound to throw a blank some day.”  For a moment the mockery died down in his eyes, and he looked more nearly serious than Bunny had ever seen him.  He patted the shoulder under his hand.  “Life is rather a rotten old show when you’ve tried everything and come to the end,” he said.  “And you know for a damn’ certainty that you’ll never taste any good fruit again.  But you will never know what that feels like, mon ami.  You’ve had the sense to play a straight game, and you’ll find it pays in the long run.  Jake taught you that, eh?  You may thank your own particular lucky star that you had him for a brother-in-law instead of me.”

“Don’t talk rot!” said Bunny gruffly.

Saltash stretched up his arms with a laugh.  “No, we’ll talk sense—­good square sense.  I take it you’ll continue to manage the estate for the present?  If you get bored, we’ll find an agent, but I’m satisfied with things as they are.  We’ll go round and have a look at the old Dower House to-morrow.  It has a fairly decent position, you know,—­overlooks Graydown.  That ought to please you both.”

Bunny turned upon him.  “Oh, confound it, Charlie!” he said.  “I can’t talk about this.  I couldn’t possibly take it.  You’re too damned generous.  I’ve never done anything to deserve it.”

“Oh yes, you have!” said Saltash unexpectedly, “you’ve done a good many things for me.  You have always been the bon ami whatever I did—­from your childhood upwards.”  His dark face laughed with friendly warmth into the boy’s troubled eyes.  “Always stuck up for me, haven’t you, Bunny?” he said.

“Oh, but that’s rot,” objected Bunny.  “A man is bound to stick up for his pals.”

“Even though he knows they’re not worth it?” laughed Saltash.  “Yes, that’s just what I like about you.  It’s the one point on which we touch.  But I’m not sure that even you would stick up for me if you knew precisely what sort of rotter you were sticking up for.”

“Oh, shut up!” said Bunny.

“Bien, mon cher! We return to your affairs.  Have you put up the banns yet?  I presume you will allow me to be best man?  Get it over soon, I beseech you!  I can’t stay here indefinitely.  As a matter of fact, I’m due in Scotland at the present moment.  Can’t you fix it up immediately?  And you can have the little car and leave of absence till you’ve got over it.  Old Bishop can run this show till the winter.  Maud can fit up the Dower House for you.  And I shall feel at liberty to roam the desert once more—­unencumbered.”

“You’re jolly decent to me!” said Bunny.

“Think so?” Saltash’s brows twitched humorously.  “I seem to be developing a taste for worthy deeds.  But there’s no reason on earth why you two shouldn’t get married and done for as soon as possible.  I’ll see Larpent to-night and tell him, and you can go and see the parson about it to-morrow.  You’ll find Nonette won’t put any obstacles in the way.  She’s a good child and does as she’s told.”