She looked at him, faintly smiling. "Wait till the real thing comes to
you, Charles Rex! You won't feel so superior then."

"Do you know how old I am?" said Saltash.

"Thirty-five," said Juliet idly.

Again his brows went up. "How on earth do you know these things
off-hand?"

Her grey eyes were quizzical. "You are quite young enough yet to be
happy--if only the right woman turns up."

He leaned back in his chair, his hands behind his head, and contemplated
her with a criticism that lasted several seconds. His dark face wore its
funny, monkeyish look of regret, half-wistful and half-feigned.

"I wish--" he said suddenly--"I wish I'd come down here when you first
began to rusticate."

"Why?" said Juliet, with her level eyes upon him.

He laughed and sprang abruptly to his feet. "_Quien sabe_? I might have
turned rustic too--pious also, my _Juliette_! Think of it! Life isn't
fair to me. Why am I condemned always to ride the desert alone?"

"Mainly because you ride too hard," said Juliet. "None but you can keep
up the pace. Ah!" She turned her head quickly, and the swift colour
flooded her face.