It was a spot in fairyland.

They came to a path that led steeply downwards, and Bunny stopped. "I'll leave my animal here," he said.

Toby did not wait. She plunged straight down the steep descent. When he rejoined her, she was at the water's edge. She knelt upon a bed of moss and thrust her hands into the clear water. He stood above her for a moment or two, then knelt beside her and took the wet wrists very gently into a firm hold. She made a faint resistance, but finally yielded. He looked down at the hands nervously clenched in his grasp. He was older in that moment, more manly, than she had ever seen him.

"What's the matter, little girl?" he said softly. "What are you afraid of?"

"Nothing," said Toby instantly, and threw up her chin in the old dauntless way.

He looked at her closely. "Sure?"

The blue eyes met his with defiance. "Of course I'm sure. That horrid trap upset me, that's all."

He continued to look at her steadily. "That isn't why you won't have anything to say to me," he said.

Her colour rose under his gaze, but she would not avoid it. "Does it matter why?" she said.

"It does when I want to know," he answered. Again his look went to her hands. "How the little brute scored you! So much for grat.i.tude!"

"You don't expect grat.i.tude from a creature wild with fright," said Toby.

She spoke rather breathlessly, and he saw that she was on the verge of tears again. He got up and drew her to her feet.

"Let's walk for a bit!" he said.

She stood as one in doubt and he felt that she was trembling.

"I say--don't!" he said suddenly and winningly. "I won't do anything you don't like, I swear. You shan't be bothered. Can't you trust me?"

She made a little movement towards him, and he put his arm round her shoulders. They turned along the greensward side by side.

"It was awfully nice of you to come," Bunny said in that new gentle voice of his. "I didn't mean you to get there first, but old Bishop is so long-winded I couldn't get away."

"It didn't matter," said Toby with a nervous little smile.

"It did to me," said Bunny. "It would have saved you that anyway."

"But you'd have killed the hare," she said.

"Not if he hadn't been damaged," he said. "I'm not a brute. I don't kill for the sake of killing."

She looked incredulous. "Most men do. Don't you hunt? Don't you shoot?"

"Oh, you're talking of sport!" said Bunny.

"Yes, it's called sport," said Toby, an odd little vibration in her voice. "It's just a name for killing things, isn't it?"

Bunny considered the matter. "No, that's not fair," he decided. "Sport is sport. But I prefer to walk up my game and I never countenance digging out a fox. That's sport."

"There are very few sportsmen in the world," said Toby.

"Oh, I don't know. Anyway, I hope I'm one of 'em. I try to be," said Bunny.

She gave him a quick look. "I think you are. And so is Jake."

"Oh, Jake! Jake's magnificent. He's taught me all I know in that line.

I used to be a horrid little bounder before I met Jake. He simply made me--body and soul." Bunny spoke with a simple candour.

"P'raps he had good stuff to work on," suggested Toby.

Bunny's arm drew her almost imperceptibly. "I don't think he had. My father was a wild Irishman, and my mother--well, she's dead too--but she wasn't anything to be specially proud of."

"Oh, was your mother a rotter?" said Toby, with sudden interest.

He nodded. "We don't talk about her much, Maud and I. She married a second time--a brute of a man who used to run the Anchor Hotel. They went to Canada, and she died."

"The Anchor Hotel!" said Toby. "That place at Fairharbour down by the sh.o.r.e?"

"Yes, Maud and I were there too at first. I was a cripple in those days, couldn't even walk. We had a fiendish time there--till Jake came."

"Ah!" Toby's blue eyes suddenly gleamed. "Did Maud marry Jake to get away?" she asked.

Bunny nodded again and began to smile. "Yes. We were in a beastly hole, she and I. Something had to be done."

"She didn't love him then?" questioned Toby, almost with eagerness.

"Oh no, not then. Not till long after. Jake and I were the pals. He was always keen enough on her, poor chap. But Charlie complicated matters rather in those days. You see, Charlie came first--before she ever met Jake."

"Charlie?" said Toby quickly.

"Lord Saltash. You knew he was an old friend, didn't you?"

"I didn't know--that he--and Maud--ever loved each other." Toby halted over the words as if they were somehow difficult to utter.

Bunny enlightened her with a boy's careless a.s.surance. "Oh, that's a very old story. They were very fond of each other in their youth. In fact they were practically engaged. Then Charlie, who has always been a bit giddy, went a bit too far with Lady Cressady who was also a somewhat gay young person, and Sir Philip Cressady, who was a brute, tried to divorce her.

He didn't succeed. The case fell through. But it set everyone by the ears, and Maud threw Charlie over. He pretends he didn't care, but he did--pretty badly, and he's never married in consequence."

"Oh, is that why?" said Toby.

"That's why. He's gone the pace fairly rapidly ever since. But he's a good chap at heart. Even Jake acknowledges that now, and he knows him as well as anyone."

"And--Maud?" said Toby, in a low voice. She was not looking at Bunny, but staring out over the still waters of the lake with a rather piteous intentness.

"Maud has always kept a soft place in her heart for him. She couldn't help it. Women can't."

"I see," said Toby. "And doesn't--Jake--mind?"

"Jake? No, not a bit. He's sure of her now. She thinks there's no one like him in the world. And she's quite right. There's not." Bunny spoke with warm enthusiasm.