"No," said Sophia, thoughtfully; "I see your objection—fifteen minutes is not enough, unless you could be sure of getting the successors to the last. But I have an idea, Peter,—if you draw out the whole balance of your time, you can't possibly help getting the right fifteen minutes somewhere or other. I think that's logical?"
"Oh, devilish logical!" muttered Peter to himself, who had reasons, which he could not divulge to her, for strongly disapproving of such a plan.
"The fact is, my dear," he said, "it—it's rather late this evening to go away for any time!"
"You forget," she said, "that, however long you are away, you will come back at exactly the same time you started. But you have some other reason, Peter—you had better tell me!"
"Well," he owned, "I might come across someone I'd rather not meet."
"You are thinking of the man that girl said she had been engaged to—Alfred, wasn't it?"
Peter had forgotten Alfred for the moment; and besides, he was not likely to turn up till the Boomerang got to Plymouth, and he knew his extra hours stopped before that. Still, Alfred did very well as an excuse.
"Ah!" he said, "Alfred. You heard what she said about him? A violent character—with a revolver, Sophia!"
"But you told her you were not afraid of him. I felt so proud of you when you said it. And think, you may be able to bring them together—to heal the breach between them!"