"Alfred will not take that as an excuse," she said. "It is true we could neither of us help what has happened, but that will not alter the fact that he is quite capable of shooting us both the instant he comes on deck. Alfred is like that!" "Well," said Peter, unable to abstain from a little more of such very cheap heroism, "I do not fear death--with you!" "Say that once more," she said; which Peter very obligingly did. "Oh, Peter, how I admire you now! How little I knew you were capable of going so calmly to your doom! You give me courage. I feel that I, too, can face death; only not _that_ death--it is so horrid to be shot!" "It would be unpleasant," said Peter, placidly, "but soon over." "No," she said, "I couldn't bear it. I can see him pointing his revolver--for he always carries one, even at a picnic--first at _your_ head, then mine! No, Peter; since we must die, I prefer at least to do so without bloodshed!" "So do I," he agreed, "very much." "You do?" she cried. "Then, oh, Peter! why should we wait any longer for a fate that is inevitable? Let us do it now, together!" "Do _what_?" said Peter. "Slip over the side together; it would be quite easy, no one will see us. Let us plunge arm-in-arm into the merciful sea! A little struggle--a moment's battle for breath--then all will be over!" "Yes, I suppose it _would_ be over then;" he said; "but we should have to swallow such a lot of salt water first!" He reflected that, even if he emerged from the agonies of drowning, to find himself Bi-metallising with Sophia, the experience would be none the less unpleasant while it lasted. There really must be some limit to his complaisance, and he set it at suicide. "No," he said at last; "I have always held that to escape a difficulty by putting an end to one's own life is a cowardly proceeding." "I _am_ a coward," she said; "but, oh, Peter, be a coward with me for once!" "Ask me anything else!" he said, firmly, "but not to stoop to cowardice. There is really no necessity for it, you see," he added, feeling that he had better speak out plainly. "I have no doubt that Alfred will listen to reason; and when he is told that, although, as is excusable enough with two natures that have much in common, we--we have found a mutual pleasure in each other's society--there has been nothing on either side inconsistent with the--the most ordinary friendship; when he hears that.... Where are you going?" for she was rising from her chair. "Where am I going?" she replied, with an unsteady laugh. "Why, overboard, if you care to know!" "But you mustn't!" he cried, scarcely knowing what he said. "The--the captain wouldn't like it. There's a penalty, I'm sure, for leaving the ship while it's in motion--I've seen it on a notice!" "There is a penalty for having believed in you," she replied bitterly, "and I am going to pay it!"