"'I tell you what, Collins,' continued Westwood, 'this may be all very well for _you_, who are continually getting into scrapes and out of them, and don't seem to care much whether you ship on board an Indiaman or a corn-brig--you can always find something to do--but to me the service is _everything_!' 'Well, well,' said I, hastily, 'I'm much mistaken if we don't find something to do in India, Tom--only wait, and that uncle of yours will make all right; for all we know, there may be news from Europe to meet us, and I must say I don't like the notion of being born too late for turning out an admiral. I'm sure, for my part, I wish old Nap well out of that stone cage of his!' 'No, no, Ned,' said Westwood, 'I ought to clear myself at home first; and sorry I am that I gave in to you by leaving England, when I should have faced the consequences, whatever they were. Running only made matters worse, Collins!' 'No doubt,' I said; 'and as it was my fault, why, deuce take me, Tom, if I don't manage to carry you out scot-free! Depend on it, Captain Duncombe's friends would have you strung up like a dog, with the interest he had and sharp as discipline is just now.' Westwood shuddered at the thought. 'I fear it would go hard with me, Ned,' said he, 'and I shan't deny that these few weeks have brought me back a taste for life. But, in spite of all, I'd deliver myself up to the first king's ship we speak, or go home in some Indiaman from the Cape--but for one thing, Collins!' 'Ah!' said I, 'what's that?' Westwood gave me a curious half-look, and said, 'One _person_ I mean, Ned--and I shouldn't like _her_ to hear of me being----' 'Yes, yes,' said I, stiffly, 'I know.' 'It must have been by guess, then!' answered he. 'Often as we've talked of her during the voyage, I thought you didn't know we had met frequently in London before you came home, and--and--the fact is, I wasn't sure you would like _me_ to----' 'Westwood,' said I, quickly, 'Tom Westwood--what I have to ask is--do you love her?' 'If ever a man loved a woman, Ned,' was his answer, 'I do _her_; but if _you_----' 'Have you any chance, then?' I broke out. 'Ay, true--true enough, you have the best of chances--your way is as clear as could be, Westwood, if you knew it! Only I _must_ know if she is willing--does she----' 'I got leave to write to her in London,' answered Westwood, 'and I did so pretty often, you may be sure; but I only had one short little note in answer to the last, I think it was--which I had in my breast that morning on Southsea beach, when I expected the bullet would come through it!'