"Do you not then talk much with Mr Macro?"
"Sometimes, and sometimes we hardly spoke all day."
"You quarrelled?"
"Hardly that, but ... well, we had not very much in common, you see. His mind was always full of his discoveries out there, and one got rather tired of it at times."
"I do not think I shall like him as much as I thought."
"Why that? I'm sorry if I have said anything that seems to reflect on him in any way."
"I am used to judging for myself. It is a look that comes into his eyes at times,—like a horse when it is going to bite. No,"—with a decided little nod,—"I shall not like him as much as I hoped; and I am sorry, for I ought to feel grateful to him for pulling me out of the water."
"I'm glad you are feeling grateful for being alive, anyway," he said, with a smile. "That is better than being doubtful about it."
"It is better to be alive than dead. And if we have to live here all our lives—very well, we must put up with it. And if you and he die, and I am left all alone, and get old and sick, as you said yesterday, I will make an end of myself. I was thinking about it all night except when I was sleeping."
"I'm sorry to have troubled you so. We will hope for better things. Anyway I have no intention of dying for some time to come, if I can help it."