“But—­I’m not good enough,” she said again, catching back a sob.

His arms enfolded her, closely and tenderly.  “Oh, skip that!” he said.  “I won’t listen.”

“You—­you—­you’re very silly,” murmured Toby, with her head against his neck.

“No.  I’m not.  I’m very sensible.  Look here, we’re engaged now, aren’t we?” said Bunny.

“No—­no—­we’re not!” Her voice came muffled against his coat.  “You’re not to think of such a thing for ages and ages and ages.”

“Oh, rot!” he said again with impatience.  “I hate a waiting game—­especially when there’s nothing to wait for.  You’re not going to give me the go-by now.”

His face was close to her again.  She put her hand against his chin and softly pushed it away.  “Bunny!” she said.

“Well, dear?” He stood, not yielding, but suffering her check.

“Bunny!” she said again, speaking with obvious effort.  “I’ve got to say something.  You must listen—­just for a minute.  Jake,—­Jake won’t want you to be engaged to me.”

“What?” Bunny started a little, as one who suddenly remembers a thing forgotten.  “Jake!” Then hotly.  “What the devil has it got to do with Jake?”

“Stop!” said Toby.  “Jake’s quite right.  He knows.  He—­he’s older than you are.  You—­you—­you’d better ask him.”

“Ask Jake!” Bunny’s wrath exploded.  “I’m my own master.  I can marry whom I like.  What on earth should I ask Jake for?”

Toby uttered a little sigh.  “You needn’t if you don’t want to.  But if you’re wise, you will.  He understands.  You wouldn’t.  You see, I’ve been to a lot of different schools, Bunny—­foreign ones—­and I’ve learnt a heap of—­rather funny things.  That’s why I’m so much older than you are.  That’s why I don’t want to get married—­as most girls do.  I never ought to marry.  I know too much.”

“But you’ll marry me?” he said swiftly.

“I don’t know,” she said.  “Not anyway yet.  If—­if you can stick to me for six months—­I—­p’raps I’ll think about it.  But I think you’ll come to your senses long before then, Bunny.”  A desolate little note of humour sounded in her voice.  “And if you do, you’ll be so glad not to have to throw me over.”

“You’re talking rot,” he interposed.

“No, I’m not.  I’m talking sense—­ordinary common sense.  I wouldn’t get engaged to any man on the strength of what happened to-night.  You hadn’t even thought of me in that way when we came up here.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” said Bunny.  “Anyway, the mischief is done now.  And you needn’t be afraid I shall throw you over because—­” an unexpected throb came into his voice—­“I know now I’ve simply got to have you.”

Toby sighed again.  “But if—­if I’m not worth waiting for, I’m not worth having,” she said.

“But why wait?” argued Bunny.

“For a hundred reasons.  You’re not really in love with me for one thing.”  Toby spoke with conviction.