Toby was laughing, but her laughter had a desperate sound. "How green you are! Must I really tell you that?"
"Yes. Go on! Tell me!" His voice was hard. Hard also was the grip of his hands. He knew that in the moment he released her she would turn and flee like a fleeing hare.
There was fear in the blue eyes that looked up to his, but they held a glare of defiance as well. Her small white teeth showed clenched between her laughing lips.
"Go on! Tell me!" he reiterated. "You shan't go—I swear—until you tell me."
"Think I'm—think I'm afraid of you?" challenged Toby, with boyish bravado.
"I think you'll answer me," he said, and abruptly his tone fell level, dead level. He looked her straight in the eyes without anger, without mercy. "And you'll answer me now, too. What other reason could Miss Melrose have for making that suggestion if it was not intended for your benefit? Now answer me!"
His face was pale, but he was master of himself. Perhaps he had learned from Jake that fundamental lesson that those who would control others must first control themselves. He still held her before him, but there was no violence in his hold. Neither was there any tenderness. It was rather of a judicial nature.
And oddly at that moment a sudden gleam of appreciation shot up in Toby's eyes. She stood up very straight and faced him unflinching.
"I don't mind answering you," she said. "Why should I? Someone will tell you sooner or later if I don't. She said that because she knew—and she wanted you to know—that I am not the sort of girl that men want to—marry."
She was quite white as she spoke the words, but she maintained her tense erectness. Her eyes never stirred from his.