“I do know!” she flung back almost fiercely.  “I know—­all I need to know—­of most things.  I know—­very well—­” her breath came quickly, but still her eyes remained upraised—­“what would have happened—­what was bound to happen—­if the yacht had never gone down.  I wasn’t afraid then.  I’m not now.  You’re the only man on this earth that I’d say it to.  I hate men—­most men!  But to you—­to you—­” a sudden sob caught her voice, she paused to steady it—­“to you I just want to be whatever you’re needing most in life.  And when I can’t be that to you any longer—­I’ll just drop out—­as I promised—­and you—­you shall never know a thing about it.  That I swear.”

His look came swiftly to her.  The blue eyes were swimming in tears.  He made a sudden gesture as of capitulation, and the strain went out of his look.  His arms tightened like springs about her.  He spoke lightly, jestingly.

“Bien! Shall I tell what you shall be to me, mignonne?” he said, and smiled down at her with his royal air of confidence.

She trembled a little and was silent, realizing that he had suddenly leapt to a decision, fearing desperately what that decision might be.  His old baffling mask of banter had wholly replaced the sombreness, but she was aware of a force behind it that gripped her irresistibly.  She could not speak in answer.

“I will tell you,” he said, and his dark, face laughed into hers with a merriment half-mischievous, half-kindly.  “I am treading the path of virtue, mignonne, and uncommon lonely I’m finding it.  You shall relieve the monotony.  We will be virtuous together—­for a while.  You shall be—­my wife!”

He stooped with the words and ere she knew it his lips were on her own.  But his kiss, though tender, was as baffling as his smile.  It was not the kiss of a lover.

She gasped and shrank away.  “Your—­wife!  You—­you—­you’re joking!  How could I—­I—­be your wife?”

“You and none other!” he declared gaily.  “Egad, it’s the very thing for us!  Why did I never think of it before?  I will order the state-coach at once.  We will go to town—­elope and be married before the world begins to buzz.  What are you frightened at, sweetheart?  Why this alarm?  Wouldn’t you rather be my wife than—­the dust beneath my feet?”

“I—­I don’t know,” faltered Toby, and hid her face from the dancing raillery in his eyes.

His hold was close and sheltering, but he laughed at her without mercy.  “Does the prospect make you giddy?  You will soon get over that.  You will take the world by storm, mignonne.  You will be the talk of the town.”

“Oh, no!” breathed Toby.  “No, I couldn’t!”

“What?” he jested.  “You are going to refuse my suit?”

She turned and clung to him with a passionate, even fierce intensity, but she did not lift her face again to his.  Her voice came muffled against his breast.  “I could never refuse you—­anything.”