Maud took her gently by the arm. "Shall we sit down and talk?" she said.
Toby yielded as it were involuntarily to the quiet touch. In her plain white blouse with the sailor collar she looked a mere child—a piteous, shy child.
Maud drew her down upon the sofa. All the mother in her went out to the forlorn little creature, yet for the moment she hesitated, as one afraid to strike a wrong note.
Toby was trembling a little and that fact decided her. She put a comforting arm about her.
"Do you know I am wondering how to make you happy?" she said.
Toby choked back a sob. "You are very kind, and I am stupid—stupid. I will try to be happy. I will really."
Maud began to draw her gently nearer, but Toby surprised her by a sudden passionate movement and slipped down on to the floor, hiding her face against her.
"I'm not fit—to speak to you!" she said in a vehement, strangled whisper. "I'm so bad—so bad. And I do—so—want to be good."
"My dear, dear child!" Maud said very tenderly.
Toby fought with herself for a space, her thin arms tightly clasping
Maud's knees. At last, forcing back her distress she lifted her head.