"Why do you call me that?" said Saltash.
She coloured at the abrupt question. "It suits you."
He made his monkeyish grimace, and suddenly dropped his eyes to the blue-veined wrist in his grasp. "Are you happy, mignonne?" he asked her, still obviously in jesting mood.
Toby's eyes dropped also. She mutely nodded.
"The truth, Nonette?" His look flashed over her; his tone was imperious.
She nodded again. "I always tell you—the truth."
He began to laugh. "Mais vraiment! I had not thought that likely. Then you do not want to leave me—yet?"
"Leave you!" Her eyes came up to his in wide amazement. "I!"
"We have been married three days," he reminded her, with comically working brows. "And I—have I not already begun to leave you—to neglect you?"
"I—I—I never expected—anything else," stammered Toby, suddenly averting her face.