Perrin looked up to remark that the courage of a woman was as it were complementary to the courage of man. That women did things which men could not do; and that their courage was on the whole of a finer quality. Mrs. Prinsep, who may perhaps have thought that the compliment to her sex was designed subtly to please her, seemed to bridle. “I think women would be proud to hear that,” she said contemptuously. She disliked Perrin; all common natures did. “Yes,” said Margaret. “A woman’s courage comes from a quality of soul. A man’s comes more from a faculty of body. You can’t think of the two without feeling that in the woman you have something far finer.” “They squeal if they see a mouse,” said Stukeley. “Yes? If you will name the highest flight of man’s courage, I will prove to you that at that point woman’s courage begins.” “A man’s courage is often indifference,” said Perrin. “When I was nearly drowned once, I remember thinking, ‘I’m going to die. Why am I not frightened?’ I wasn’t frightened. I was only tired of swimming and swimming, with the water against me.” “You skedaddled from that dog the other day,” said Stukeley. “What dog was that, Mr. Stukeley?” Mrs. Prinsep asked. “Oh,” said Stukeley, with a chuckle. “A dog that flounced out at him from one of the houses here. Good luck. To see old Pilly run. Did he get you, Pilly, or did you get up the tree in time?” “I was in time,” said Perrin, flushing, looking very uncomfortable. “Are you very much afraid of dogs, Mr. Perrin?” Mrs. Prinsep asked. “Yes,” he answered rudely. “So are you.” At this moment Captain Lewin entered, so that the discussion came to an end before it had well begun, like most discussions of the kind. Captain Lewin was a tall, grey, upright man, with a sharp, dictatorial manner that was somehow not authoritative, and therefore not offensive. He entered the room with his hands behind his back, snapping quickly from the nervous strain of being late. Howard greeted him and introduced him. He sat down nervously on his host’s left, looked round the room with the quick apprehension of an animal, much as he would have looked aloft on coming on deck, and began to apologize for his lateness. “I dined before I left the ship,” he said. “That rascal, my purser, kept me. Very good claret, your Excellency. Who’s the man next but one on my left? I seem to know his face.” “Stukeley. Thomas Stukeley, husband of the lady here,” the Governor answered in a low voice. “I seem to have seen him somewhere. Wasn’t he in the rising in Beverley’s time?” “No, captain.” “Reminds me of that beauty who led us such a dance up the Delaware.” “Oh, George Bond?” “Yes. He was a beauty. I wonder what’s become of George Bond?” “Yes. He kept us all alive here.” “You have just come from England?” Olivia asked. “Yes,” said the captain. “We sailed at the end of July. Your Excellency, I wouldn’t go down the river with such another convoy. Not if the King knighted me.”