Part 48 (1/2)

Bunny turned on her. ”Why do you say that? She's very young, hardly more than a kid. She doesn't care for people and towns. Why should she?”

He put the question almost indignantly, and Sheila smiled at him pacifically. ”I don't know in the least why she should. I only had a sort of idea that she might. She is very pretty, isn't she? And pretty girls don't generally care to be buried before they have had their fling--not always then.”

”Oh, you think she doesn't get any fun!” said Bunny, still somewhat resentful.

”No--no, of course I don't! You know best what she likes. I only wonder that Maud didn't think of giving her just one season in town. It would be rather good for her, don't you think?”

”I don't know,” said Bunny rather shortly. ”Maud isn't keen on town. I think she's better where she is.”

Sheila laughed. ”You're afraid she'd slip through your fingers if she saw too much of the world?”

”No, I'm not!” declared Bunny, frowning. ”I hadn't thought about it.

But I'd hate her to get old and sophisticated. Her great charm is in being--just what she is.”

”Oh, she has plenty of charm,” Sheila admitted, and her own brows drew a little in thought. ”I wish I could remember who it is she reminds me of.

That is the worst of having such a large circle.”

”She isn't like anyone I've ever met,” declared Bunny, and gulped down his drink abruptly. ”Well, I must be going. You'll come up to-morrow then, you and the General. I shall be there, and I'll tell Maud you're coming.”

”You are sure we had better come?” Sheila said, as she gave him her hand.

He gripped it. ”Of course! Maud will be delighted. I'm sorry you weren't asked before. About three then--if that suits you! Good-bye!”

He smiled his pleasant, boyish smile, and departed.

But as he raced back from Fairharbour in his little two-seater car to meet his young _fiancee_ on the downs, the memory of Sheila's word came back to him and he frowned again. It was true that they were not thinking of marriage for the next few months, and their plans were still somewhat vague, but the idea of waiting while Toby had her fling for a whole season in town revolted him. He could not have said definitely wherefore, save that he wanted to keep her just as she was in his eyes--fresh and young and innocent. He was angry with Sheila for having suggested it, and he wanted to thrust the matter from his mind.

Yet when he found himself alone with Toby, walking along the brow of the furze-strewn down, he attacked the subject with characteristic directness.

”Sheila Melrose thinks you ought to have a season in town before we get married. Would you like to do that?”

Toby looked up at him with her clear eyes wide with surprise. ”What the--blazes has it to do with Sheila Melrose?” she said.

He laughed briefly. ”Nothing, of course. Less than nothing. It's just a point of view. She thinks you're too pretty to be buried before you've had your fling--rot of that sort.”

”My--fling!” said Toby, and with a sudden gesture that was almost of shrinking drew his arm more closely round her shoulders. ”I should loathe it and you know it,” she said with simplicity.

He held her to him. ”Of course you would. I should myself. I hate the smart set. But, you know, you are--awfully pretty; I don't want to do anything unfair.”

”Rats!” said Toby.

He bent his face to hers. ”Are you beginning to care for me--just a little--by any chance?”

She laughed and flushed, twining her fingers in his without replying.

Bunny pursued his point. ”You'd sooner marry me out of hand than go hunting London for someone more to your liking? Would you?”

”Oh, much,” said Toby. ”But, you see, I hate London.”