She threw him a quick look, choking back her tears. "It—it—it's rather funny, isn't it?" she said, with a little crack of humour in her voice. "I'm—I'm very sorry. Captain Larpent."
"Sorry?" he said.
"For you," said Toby, with another piteous choke. "I've been foisted on to you so often. And you—you've hated it so."
"That's the tragic part of it," said Larpent.
She brushed away her tears and tried to smile. "I wonder you bothered to tell me," she said.
His hand closed almost unconsciously upon her arm. "I had to tell you," he said. "It's a thing you ought to know." He hesitated a moment, then concluded with obvious effort. "And I wanted to offer you my help."
"Thank you," whispered Toby. "You—you—that's very—generous of you." She gulped again, and recovered herself. "What do you want to do about it?" she said.
"Do? Well, what can I do?" He seemed momentarily disconcerted by the question.
Toby became brisk and business-like. "Well, you don't want to retire and live in a cottage with me, do you? We shouldn't either of us like that, should we?"
"There's no question of that now," said Larpent quietly. "Your home is with your husband, not with me."