Saltash’s grin became a grimace.  “Oh, heavens, Larpent!  And you’ve had indigestion ever since?  How long ago is it?  Twenty years?”

“About that,” said Larpent.

“Heavens!” said Saltash again.  “I should like to see the woman who could hold me after twenty years!”

“So should I,” said Larpent dryly.

Saltash snapped his fingers.  “She doesn’t exist, my good fellow!  But if she did—­by Jove, what a world it would be!”

Larpent grunted sardonically.  “It wouldn’t be large enough to hold you, my lord.”

Saltash stretched his arms wide.  “Well, I’m going ashore to-night.  Who knows what the gods may send?  Wish me luck!”

Larpent surveyed the restless figure with a sort of stony humour.  “I wish you a safe return,” he said.

Saltash laughed and went away along the deck with a monkey-like spring that was curiously characteristic of him.  There was nothing of the sailor’s steady poise about him.

The little Italian town that clung to the slopes that rose so steeply from the sea shone among its terraced gardens like a many-coloured jewel in the burning sunset.  The dome of its Casino gleamed opalescent in its centre—­a place for wonder—­a place for dreams.  Yet Saltash’s expression as he landed on the quay was one of whimsical discontent.  He had come nearly a fortnight ago to be amused, but somehow the old pleasures had lost their relish and he was only bored.

“I’m getting old,” he said to himself with a grimace of disgust.

But he was not old.  He was barely six-and-thirty.  He had had the world at his feet too long, that was all.

There was to be a water-side fete that night at Valrosa, and the promenade and bandstand were wreathed with flowers and fairy-lights.  It was getting late in the season, and it would probably be the last.  Saltash surveyed the preparations with very perfunctory interest as he sauntered up to the hotel next to the Casino where he proposed to dine.

A few people he knew were staying there, and he looked forward to a more or less social evening.  At least he could count on a welcome and a rubber of bridge if he felt so inclined.  Or there was the Casino itself if the gambling mood should take him.  But he did not feel much like gambling.  He wanted something new.  None of the old stale amusements appealed to him tonight.  He was feeling very ancient and rather dilapidated.

He went up the steps under the cypress-trees that led from terrace to terrace, pausing at each landing-place to look out over the wonderful sea that was changing every moment with the changing glow of the sunset.  Yes, it was certainly a place for dreams.  Even old Larpent felt the charm—­Larpent who had fallen in love twenty years ago for the first and last time!

An irrepressible chuckle escaped him.  Funny old Larpent!  The wine of the gods had evidently been too strong a brew for him.  It was obvious that he had no desire to repeat the dose.