Raeburn paused to reward and thank the men who had rescued them in his most genial manner, and Erica's happiness would have been complete had not the coast guardsman stepped up in an insolent and officious way, and observed:
“It is a pity, Mr. Luke Raeburn, that you don't bring yourself to offer thanks to God almighty!”
“Sir,” replied Raeburn, “when I ask your opinion of my personal and private matters, it will be fitting that you should speak not before!”
The man looked annihilated, and turned away.
Raeburn grasped the rough hands of his helpers and well-wishers, gave his arm to Erica, and led her up the steep beach.
Later on in the evening they sat over the fire, and talked over their adventure. June though it was, they had both been thoroughly chilled.
“What did you think of when we were in the water?' asked Erica.
“I made a deep calculation,” said Raeburn, smiling, “and found that the sale of the plant and of all my books would about clear off the last of the debts, and that I should die free. After that I thought of Cicero's case of the two wise men struggling in the sea with one plank to rescue them sufficient only for one. They were to decide which of their lives was most useful to the republic, and the least useful man was to drop down quietly into the deep. It struck me that you and I should hardly come to such a calculation. I think we would have gone down together, little one! What did you think of?”
But Erica's thoughts could not so easily be put into words.
“For one thing,” she said, “I thought we should never be divided any more.”