She snatched her hand away. Her face was on fire. "I said you did not make the most of life," she flung at him. "And it's true! You don't! You don't!"
"How do you know that?" said Saltash.
She did not answer him. Her head was bent over the basket. She threw out one thing after another with nervous rapidity, and once, as he watched her, there came a faint sound that was like a hastily suppressed sob.
Saltash got to his feet with disconcerting suddenness and walked away.
When he returned some minutes later with a half-smoked cigarette between his lips, she was sitting demurely awaiting him, the picnic ready spread.
He scarcely looked at her but he flicked her cheek as he sat down, and in a moment she turned and smiled at him.
"I have found another cup," she said.
"So I see," said Saltash, and before she could realize his mood he picked it up and flung it at the trunk of a tree some yards away. It shivered in fragments on the moss, and Toby gasped and stared at him wide-eyed.
He laughed in his careless fashion at her amazement. "Now we shall drink out of one cup!" he said.
"Was that—was that—why you did it?" she stammered breathlessly.