A knight has arrived to the
rescue--a very puissant knight!"
"A knight!" gasped Toby, trembling. "Ah! Tell me what you mean!"
His look was openly mocking. "A knight in gaiters!" he told her
lightly. "A knight who bears--or should bear--a horsewhip in place of
a sword--that is, if I know him aright!"
"Jake!" she gasped incredulously.
He laughed afresh. "Even so! Jake! Most worthy--and most obtrusive! What
shall we do with him, lady mine? Slay him--or give him a feed and send
him home?"
She stared at him, aghast. "You--you--you are joking!" she stammered.
"I always joke when I am most serious," Saltash assured her.
"Oh, don't!" She clung closer to his arm. "What shall we do? He--he can't
do anything, can he? We--we--we really are married, aren't we?"
Saltash's most appalling grimace fled like a hunted goblin across his
face. "Married? Heavens, child! What more do you want? Haven't you seen
it--actually seen it--in our greatest London daily? And can a London
daily lie? You may have dreamed the wedding, but that paragraph--that
paragraph--it takes a genius of the first literary degree to dream a
paragraph, though it may only need quite an ordinary fool to write it!
Why, what is the matter? What is it? Did you see something? Not a mouse?
Not a beetle? I prithee, not a beetle!"
For Toby had suddenly hidden her face against his shoulder and there was
actual panic in the clinging of her arms.
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