"Something else might have happened, equally unpleasant. Nobody knew, till we were off, how rough it would be. There's a grand wave! . . . You won't often see a finer sight! . . . Sit close! We shall be drenched! . . . Whew!"
"I should enjoy it—any other time!"
"Remember, there is no absolute certainty—about them, I mean! At the last moment they may have changed their plans, and come by Suez."
"Not if the passage were taken. Why should they? . . . Is it any use to let myself hope?"
Jem had no difficulty in hearing Jean's clear intonation, even through the babel of wind and water. Conversation was perforce fitful, containing many breaks: but the two were as quiet as if seated in Dutton Rectory study.
Jean's next words came after an interval—
"Drowning is not a painful death, is it?"
"No, not painful. This is generally agreed upon, I think . . . Would you not be wiser to leave details, till we know more? One goes through needless misery sometimes, picturing what has never happened. They and we are in our Father's Hands. Try to remember that—and to trust . . . What do you think of my going back to London work?"
"And leaving Dutton?"
"I have had an offer of a living."