A murmur went up and then a shout. The bottle had broken and the wine rushed in a sparkling cascade to the water.
Something impelled Bunny. He gripped Toby by the elbow. He almost shook her. "Hooray!" he yelled. "It's done! She's off!"
Toby looked at him with the eyes of a dreamer—eyes in which a latent fear underlay the reverence. Then, meeting his eyes, she seemed to awake. Her features contracted for a moment, but she controlled them swiftly, and laughed. Laughing, she drew him away.
The yacht had throbbed into movement. The ropes were being flung aboard. They were steaming away, and a great blast went up from the siren as they drew from the quay.
Everywhere was tumult, rejoicing. People were shouting, talking, laughing, waving hats and handkerchiefs. The whole world seemed a buzz of merriment, and out of the very thick of it, Toby's voice, small and tense, spoke into Bunny's ear.
"Let's get away! Let's go to Lord Saltash, and—and—and congratulate."
Her hand was on his arm. She pulled at it urgently, insistently. And Bunny went with her, moved again—he knew not wherefore—by that feeling that something had frightened her.
He grasped her hand and made a way for her through the crowd. They went to the laughing group in the bows. Saltash was standing close to Maud. He was making some careless jest to her, when suddenly he turned and found the boy and girl hand in hand behind him.
His swift look flashed over them, and then in his sudden way he put a hand on the shoulder of each. It was a lightning touch, and he laughed oddly as he did it, as a man laughs who covers some hidden hurt.
"We came to congratulate," said Bunny. "Good luck to her!"