"He's more likely to make a breach in me that won't heal!" said Peter.
"Still, as you said yourself, it isn't as if it was all actually existing. What does it matter, even if he should shoot you?"
"I don't see any advantage in exposing myself to any such unpleasant experiences, even if they are only temporary," he said.
"It is not a question of advantage, Peter," rejoined Sophia; "it is a simple duty, and I'm surprised that you don't see it as such. Whatever the consequences of your conduct may be, you cannot evade them like this; you have chosen to begin, and you must go on! I am quite clear about that. Let me see"—(here she took the cheque-book, and made some rapid calculations from the counterfoils)—"yes, you have two hours and three-quarters at least still standing to your credit; and then there's the compound interest. I will tear out all these small cheques and burn them." Which she did as she spoke. "And now, Peter, sit down and fill up one of the blank ones at the end for the whole amount."
"Do you know, Sophia," said Peter, "it occurs to me that this is just one of those matters which can only be satisfactorily arranged by—er—a woman's tact. Suppose I make the cheque payable to you now—eh?"
"You mean, that you want me to go instead of you?" she asked.
"Well," said Peter, "if it wouldn't be bothering you, my dear, I think perhaps it would be——"
"Don't say another word," she interrupted, "or I shall begin to despise you, Peter! If I thought you meant it seriously, I would go upstairs, put on my bonnet, and go back to mamma for ever. I could not bear to be the wife of a coward!"
"Oh, I'll go!" said Peter, in much alarm. "I said what I did out of consideration, not cowardice. But wouldn't to-morrow do as well, Sophia? It is late to turn out!"
"To-morrow will not do as well," she said: "fill up that cheque to-night, or you will lose me for ever!"