"There!" said Peter, as he scrawled off the cheque. "Are you satisfied now, Sophia?"
"I shall be when I see you present it."
"Er—yes," he said; "oh! I mean to present it—presently. I—I think I'll take a small glass of brandy before I go, my dear, to keep the cold out."
"As you will certainly be in a summer, if not tropical, temperature the next moment," she said, "I should advise you to take nothing of the kind."
"I say," he suggested, "suppose I find she has just jumped overboard—what shall I do then?"
"Do! Can you possibly ask? You will jump after her, of course!"
"It's easy to say 'of course,'" he said; "but I never could swim more than twenty strokes!"
"Swim those twenty then, and let come what will; you will be back all the sooner. But don't stand there talking about it, Peter—go!"
"I'm going," he said, meekly. "You'll sit up for me, Sophia, if—if I'm late, won't you?"