"We have been married three days," he reminded her, with comically working brows. "And I--have I not already begun to leave you--to neglect you?" "I--I--I never expected--anything else," stammered Toby, suddenly averting her face. He patted her cheek with careless kindliness. "How wise of you, my dear! How wise! Then you are not yet--sufficiently _ennuyée_ to desire to leave me?" "Why--why do you ask?" questioned Toby. There was a species of malicious humour about him that made her uneasy. Saltash in a mischievous mood was not always easy to restrain. He did not immediately reply to her question, and she turned with a hint of panic and tightly clasped his arm. "It is--you who are--_ennuyé_!" she said, with piteous eyes upraised. He flicked her cheek with his thumb, his odd eyes gleaming. "Not so, _Miladi_ Saltash! For me--the game is just begun. But--should you desire to leave me--the opportunity is yours. A knight has arrived to the rescue--a very puissant knight!" "A knight!" gasped Toby, trembling. "Ah! Tell me what you mean!" His look was openly mocking. "A knight in gaiters!" he told her lightly. "A knight who bears--or should bear--a horsewhip in place of a sword--that is, if I know him aright!" "Jake!" she gasped incredulously. He laughed afresh. "Even so! Jake! Most worthy--and most obtrusive! What shall we do with him, lady mine? Slay him--or give him a feed and send him home?" She stared at him, aghast. "You--you--you are joking!" she stammered. "I always joke when I am most serious," Saltash assured her. "Oh, don't!" She clung closer to his arm. "What shall we do? He--he can't do anything, can he? We--we--we really are married, aren't we?" Saltash's most appalling grimace fled like a hunted goblin across his face. "Married? Heavens, child! What more do you want? Haven't you seen it--actually seen it--in our greatest London daily? And can a London daily lie? You may have dreamed the wedding, but that paragraph--that paragraph--it takes a genius of the first literary degree to dream a paragraph, though it may only need quite an ordinary fool to write it! Why, what is the matter? What is it? Did you see something? Not a mouse? Not a beetle? I prithee, not a beetle!" For Toby had suddenly hidden her face against his shoulder and there was actual panic in the clinging of her arms. He laid a hand upon her head, and patted it lightly, admonishingly. She did not speak for a second or two, only gulped with desperate effort at self-restraint. Then, at length, in a muffled voice, "Don't let him take me away!" she besought him shakily. "You--you--you've promised to keep me--now." "But, of course I'm keeping you," said Saltash. "It's what I did it for. It's the very essence of the game. Cheer up, Nonette! I'm not parting with any of my goods, worldly or otherwise, this journey." "You are sure?" whispered Toby. "Sure?" "Sure of what?" He bent swiftly, and for a second, only a second, his lips touched her hair.