"So what?" he said.
"So nothing," the girl answered. "Except that we are two of a kind."
"And because we are two of a kind, we can get along?" he questioned.
"Yes," she answered. She made no effort to hide the longing in her eyes. "Look, Craig, me and you, we're tough." She gestured contemptuously at the others in the boat. "They aren't tough."
"Aren't they?"
"No." The words came faster now, as if she had made up her mind to say what she had to say and be damned with the consequences. "They're going to die. Oh, you needn't shake your head. You haven't fooled me for a minute with your pretending there will be a ship along to pick us up. There won't be a ship. Our only hope is that we may drift ashore on an island. It may be days before we find an island. There isn't enough water to keep us all alive that long. So—"
She couldn't quite finish what she had to say. Craig watched her, his eyes cold and unrevealing. Her gaze dropped.
"So why don't you and I split the water and let the others die of thirst because we are tough and they aren't? Is that what you mean?" he asked.
"No—" She faltered. "N—no." Defiance hardened her face. "Yes!" she snapped. "That's what I mean. Why should we take care of them? We don't owe them anything. Why should we die with them? What have they—or anybody else—ever done for us? I'll tell you the answer. Nothing. Nothing! Nothing!"
"Because they have done nothing for us and because we are the stronger, we let them die. Is that what you mean?"