The smile still played about his ugly features as he chose a cigarette.

Finally he snapped the lid and looked down again at his _protege_.
"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.