“I was looking for you,” said Stukeley. “We’re waiting for you. It’s time we went.”
“Your wife’s in the cabin,” he answered. “She’s waiting for you. To say good-bye.” As he spoke, the cabin door opened, and Olivia came out into the alley-way.
“Tom,” she said, “where are you going with this man?”
“Hello, Livy,” he answered. “I’m just going ashore, to interview the Spaniards.”
“He says that there is danger.”
“Danger? Rubbish. You ass, Maggy. Why can’t you keep your head shut?”
“Oh. So perhaps he lied again.”
“I’ll leave you,” Margaret said, turning away.
“No. Do not go,” she answered. “I’ve something to say to you, Tom. I want you to hear it, Charles. Tom, there’s danger in going ashore here. Oh, I know it. I know it. Tom, dear, since we came here there’s been something between us always. Ever since. Tom, dear, you were afraid that I should be angry. Unforgiving. You might have trusted me, Tom. You were afraid I should hate you. I wasn’t very wise. It was so sudden. And I wasn’t myself, Tom. It’s not too late, dear. Don’t let it be too late, Tom.” She paused, looking to her husband for the answer she had put into his mouth. Stukeley found it hard to answer. “Oh, Tom, I want you back. I want you back.”
“There, Livy,” Stukeley said. “There, Livy.” He took her in his arms and kissed her. “When I come back, dear,” he added. “I must go now. I’m going ashore.”