"Yes, I'll do that," he said.
"And you won't—you won't—you won't—talk to anybody about me?" she pleaded.
"No," said Jake briefly.
"Not to Lord Saltash? Not to anyone?"
"No," he said again, a hint of sternness in the curt word.
Toby gulped down her distress, was silent for a moment or two, then suddenly smiled upon him—a sunny inconsequent smile. "Guess I've got you on my side now," she said with satisfaction. "You're nice and solid, Mr. Jake Bolton. When you've been picked up from the very bottom of the sea, it's good to have someone big and safe to hold on to."
"That so?" said Jake.
"Yes, I know now why Lord Saltash sent me here—just because you're big—and safe."
"Oh, quite safe," said Jake with his sudden smile.
It came to him—as it had come to Saltash—that there was something piteously like a small animal, storm-driven and seeking refuge, about her. Even in her merriest moments she seemed to plead for kindness.