"Yes." Bunny was standing up very straight; his eyes were shining. "Love to Maud of course. I shan't come round at present. But tell Toby that when I do, she needn't be worried over anything. We're all square. Tell her that!"
"I will," said Jake. He turned to the door, then paused, looking back. "And say!" he said. "Don't you butt in with Saltash! Just leave him to manage his own fate! He's riding a bucking horse, but I've a notion he'll yet make good—if he can."
"He's a rum devil," said Bunny. "All right. I shan't interfere."
After Jake had gone, he sat down and pulled a letter from his pocket. All the lines of perplexity smoothed out of his boyish face as he read it. It was the letter of a woman who had written because she wanted to write, not because she had anything to say, and Bunny's eyes were very tender as he came to the end. He sat for a space gazing down at the signature, and at length with a gesture half-shamefaced he put it to his lips.
"Yes, I've been a fool, Sheila," he said softly. "But, thank heaven, I was pulled up in time. And I shan't—ever—make that mistake again."
Which was perhaps exactly what the writer had meant him to say.
CHAPTER IX
LARPENT
"Shall we dig a deep, deep hole for you to lie in?" asked Eileen with serious violet eyes upraised.
"And then cover you right up to your head so as you won't catch cold?" chimed in Molly.