‘Why,’ she cried, ‘if it gets any higher it’ll be in here soon.’
‘In that case,’ he grunted, still bending and trying to wring his trousers, ‘you’ll have to keep your feet on the cushions.’
She put out a hand. ‘But suppose it gets higher and higher. My God, we’re simply trapped here!’
He straightened himself now, brought his face close to hers and smiled at her through the deep dusk. ‘We could get out somehow. Besides it can’t rise much. It’s bound to run away very quickly. It’s rather amusing, don’t you think?’
‘Amusing!’ He thought he saw her pull a face at him. ‘I like your idea of amusement.’
His fingers touched something smooth and cold. It was the flask. He’d forgotten that too. ‘There’s just a spot left,’ he said, shaking it. ‘You have it.’
‘Don’t want it, thanks. Finish it yourself.’
‘Shall I? Or shall I keep it for an emergency? Or is this an emergency? Tell me that.’
‘You just said it wasn’t, didn’t you, Mr. Clever Man? But hurry up and finish it.’ She leaned sideways against the cushions, her face turned towards him. ‘I believe I want to go to sleep,’ she yawned. ‘I’ll be off in a minute.’ But inside she didn’t feel a bit sleepy, all excited.
‘If you went to sleep, something tremendous would happen and then you’d miss it.’ He went rambling on while he slowly unscrewed the flask. ‘You might wake up to find the water an inch from your chin and trout darting under your arms. Then again, of course, you might wake up to find that you weren’t here at all but crossing Piccadilly Circus to catch the last Tube train.’