She thanked him in an undertone, and he began to row steadily away from the yacht and the thronging boats.
"You tell me when I've gone far enough!" he said.
But she did not tell him, and he rowed on and on through the dark water with only the rhythmic splashing of the oars to fill the silence between them.
They left the laughter and the noise behind, and began to draw towards the far corner of the bay. The shore rose steeply from the water here, and there came to them the soft breaking of the waves against the cliff as they neared it.
Toby came out of her silence with a jerk. "Bunny, do you really think it would answer?"
"Sure!" said Bunny promptly.
He drew in his oars with the words, and they drifted on the summer tide.
Toby was looking at him in the starlight with a dumb and piteous irresolution in her eyes.
Bunny leaned to her as he sat, with outstretched hands. "You poor little frightened mouse!" he said. "What is it that's troubling you? Do you think I wouldn't make you happy?"
"I think you'd try," she said dubiously.