However, the _Alligator_ did not go to the bottom, thanks to Providence, rare seamanship, and her own sea-going qualities--but that she never was out in anything that tried the latter so thoroughly was admitted by the oldest salt on board. * * * * * Geoffrey escorted Alice down to Monkswood about a fortnight after her husband had sailed. The carriage they occupied was empty; for the first part of the journey they had it all to themselves. Geoffrey thought this an excellent opportunity for giving Alice what he called “a little bit of his mind,” so, having arranged himself and his rug to his complete satisfaction, in the seat facing hers, and sticking his eyeglass firmly in his eye, he commenced: “_You_ are a nice young woman, I must say. I have the worst, the very worst possible opinion of you.” “You can’t think how grieved I am to hear you say so,” said Alice, looking up from _Punch_ with a complacent smile. “It’s no smiling matter,” he replied angrily, “you heartless, obstinate little--little--I don’t know what to call you.” “Don’t hesitate to relieve your mind; you have generally a fine command of language. Pray don’t let my feelings stand in your way.” “Well--_vixen_, then--a little vixen!--allowing your _husband_”--with much emphasis on the word--“to go out of the country in this way: the very best, the nicest fellow in the whole world. His little finger is worth ten of you. Letting him go when a word would have stopped him. The idea of a chit like you”--with scathing contempt--“having it in her power to control a fellow’s movements! Now you have sent him to that white man’s grave-yard--India--I hope you are satisfied?” “There was no occasion for him to go.” “Every occasion, once you had taken it into your head to leave him. You could not both live at home, and apart, without no end of a scandal--a young couple barely out of their honeymoon. Even now there are whispers, I can tell you; but, as everyone knows Rex to be a red-hot soldier, the row that they say is going to come off out there will be sufficient excuse to most; few will guess the real reason of his leaving England--an obstinate, credulous, heartless wife.” “Really, Geoffrey, you have the most astounding assurance! What next, pray?” “One great comfort to me is,” proceeded Geoffrey, removing his glass and leaning back with folded hands, “that when this tremendous lie is found out, and squashed, everyone will be down on you like a thousand tons of bricks. I am quite looking forward to it, I can tell you,” rubbing his hands. “Thank goodness you are not _my_ wife, that’s all.” “To be your wife!” she exclaimed contemptuously, “what an alluring idea! Why not suggest Norman at once?” Geoffrey’s youth was his tender point.