"But it may occur," Muller persisted.
"Well, if it does you will not suffer; and I shall be glad to hide myself and be at rest."
"You say that now."
"Do you doubt my courage or my honour?" Sterne demanded, sharply.
"No, I doubt neither," Muller said, slowly; "but the instinct of life is strong—especially in the young."
"When a man has something to live for—some great purpose to achieve, or some proud ambition to realise, he naturally wants to live. But take away that something, and life is a squeezed orange which he is glad to fling away."
"People still cling to life when they have nothing left to live for," Muller said, reflectively.
"Sentimentalists and cowards," Sterne broke in, hastily. "Men who have been robbed of their courage by priestly superstitions. But you and I have thrown off the swaddling clothes in which we were reared. Your German philosophers have not reflected and written for nothing."
"I am an Englishman," Muller broke in, hastily.
"I do not dispute it for a moment," Sterne said, with a laugh. "But let us not get away from the subject we have in hand. The question is will you accommodate me or will you not?"