Toby came out of her silence with a jerk. "Bunny, do you really think it
would answer?"
"Sure!" said Bunny promptly.
He drew in his oars with the words, and they drifted on the summer tide.
Toby was looking at him in the starlight with a dumb and piteous
irresolution in her eyes.
Bunny leaned to her as he sat, with outstretched hands. "You poor little
frightened mouse!" he said. "What is it that's troubling you? Do you
think I wouldn't make you happy?"
"I think you'd try," she said dubiously.
For a few seconds she hung back, hesitating; then swiftly, almost with
the gesture of one who casts aside a burden, she threw out her trembling
hands and thrust them into his. He took them and held them fast, drawing
them gently to him till he had them against his heart. "I would try,
sweetheart," he said softly.
"Would you?" whispered Toby. "Would you?"
She went nearer to him; he could feel her trembling from head to foot.
"You think I wouldn't succeed?" he asked her tenderly. "You think I'd
make you sorry?"
"I don't know," she answered quiveringly. "I--I'm thinking most of you."
"Wondering whether it would be good for me to have my heart's desire?"
jested Bunny softly.
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