"Or Toby nothing?" he said.
Toby's eyes came up to his, though the effort to raise them drew his face
painfully.
"Whatever you like, my lord," he said faintly. "I'll answer to anything."
Saltash's own face was curiously softened. He looked down at Toby for
some seconds in silence, idly tapping the cigarette he held against the
case. Then: "How old are you?" he asked suddenly.
"Sixteen, sir." Toby's eyes with their dumb pleading were still anxiously
raised to his.
Saltash bent abruptly and put his hand very lightly over them. "All
right. Don't hurt yourself!" he said kindly. "You're young enough to
chuck the past and start again."
Toby's claw-like hands came up and closed upon his wrist. "Wish I could,
sir," he whispered with lips that quivered. "Haven't had much of a
chance--so far, sir."
"All right," Saltash said again. "It's up to you. I shan't interfere.
Don't expect too much of me; that's all I ask! I'm not considered exactly
a suitable companion for young things like you."
He drew his hand away and lighted his cigarette. Toby turned his face
into the cushion and lay very still.
Larpent, returning, wondered what his patron had been saying to make the
boy's eyes wet with tears, but betrayed no curiosity on the subject.
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