"Are you suggesting--a cure ?" Larpent turned his head back again and puffed a cloud of smoke upwards.
"There's a cure for most things," he observed.
"Can the Ethiopian change his skin ?" gibed Saltash.
Larpent was silent for a space.

Then: "A painful process no doubt!" he said.

"But more wonderful things have happened." "Pshaw!" said Saltash.
Nevertheless when Larpent rose a little later and bade him good-night, he reached up a couple of fingers in careless comradeship.
"Good-night, old fellow! Thanks for putting up with me! Sure you don't want to kick me ?" "Not when you're kicking yourself," said Larpent with a grim hint of humour.
He took the extended fingers and received a wiry handclasp that caused him faint surprise.

But then, he reflected as he went away, he had always known Saltash to be a queer devil, oddly balanced, curiously impulsive, strangely irresponsible, possessing through all a charm which seldom failed to hold its own.

He realized by instinct that Saltash was wrestling with himself that night, but, though he knew him better than did many, he would not have staked anything on the result.