Maud smiled. "Very well, my dear. Then that is settled. We are not going to be strangers, you and I. I expect you know that Lord Saltash and I are great friends—though I have never met your father."
Toby's pale young face flushed suddenly. She was silent for a moment.
Then: "Lord Saltash has been very good to me," she said in her shy voice.
"He—saved me from drowning. Wasn't it—wasn't it nice of him to—take
the trouble?"
"Quite nice of him," Maud agreed. "You must have been very frightened, weren't you?"
Toby suppressed a shudder. "I was rather. And the water was dreadfully cold. I thought we should never come up again. It was like—it was like—" She stopped herself. "He said I was never to talk about it—or think about it—so I won't, if you don't mind."
"Tell me about your father!" said Maud sympathetically.
For the second time the blue eyes flashed towards her. "Oh, he is still ill in a nursing home and not allowed to see anyone." There was a hint of recklessness in her voice. "They say he'll get well again, but—I don't know."
"You are anxious about him," Maud said.
"No, I'm not." Recklessness became something akin to defiance. "I don't like him much. He's so surly."
"My dear!" said Maud, momentarily disconcerted.
"Well, it's no good pretending I do when I don't, is it?" said Toby, and suddenly smiled at her with winning gracelessness. "It isn't my fault We're not friends—never have been. Why," she made a little gesture of the hands, "we hardly know each other. I'd never been on The Night Moth before."