“So the grim struggle went on in silence, till the man, looking up, saw the stone coping just a little way above his head, made one mad leap and caught it with his finger-tips, held on an instant, then fell back with a ‘plump,’ and sank; came up and made another dash, helped by the impetus of his rise, caught the coping firmly this time with the whole of his fingers, hung on till his eyes saw the grass, till they were both able to scramble out upon the bank and lie there, their breasts pressed close against the ground, and their hands clutching the earth, while the overflowing water swirled softly round them.
“caught it with his finger-tips.”
“After a while, they raised themselves and looked at one another.
“‘Tiring work, that sort of thing,’ said the other man, with a nod towards the lock.
“‘Yes,’ answered the husband, ‘beastly awkward not being a good swimmer. How did you know I had fallen in? You met my wife, I suppose?’
“‘Yes,’ said the other man.
“The husband sat staring at a point in the horizon for some minutes. ‘Do you know what I was wondering this morning?’ said he.
“‘No,’ said the other man.
“‘Whether I should kill you or not.’