Peter picked up Buckle, which was lying face downwards on the deck. His own face was very red, possibly from stooping, as he inquired: "Er--_which_ two young ladies?" "Can't tell you their names; but those two uncommonly nice-looking girls--one in white and navy-blue, and the darker one in pink. Dear me, I thought they would have died!" Even now they seemed to have the greatest difficulty in controlling their countenances, for happening just then to look round and catch Peter's glance of confused and still somnolent suspicion, they buried their faces in their handkerchiefs once more, in agonies of suppressed mirth. And these were the two whom his dreaming fancies had pictured as tenderly, desperately, madly devoted to him! The reality was decidedly disenchanting: they were very ordinary girls, he saw, after all. "Well," said Mr. Perkins, "it's not far off tiffin time now; so, you see, you managed to get through your extra time after all!" "Yes," said Peter, with a little natural embarrassment; "but I think, do you know, that, on reflection, I--I _won't_ deposit the extra hours after all! If you will kindly take back the--the cheque-book," he added, feeling in his pockets, "and give me the form I signed, we will consider the arrangement cancelled--eh?" "It's my belief," said the Manager, "that your head isn't quite clear yet; for, hang me if I know what you 're talking about! Deposit? cheque-book? form? What is it all about?" Peter coloured more furiously than before. "It was the curry," he said. "I wasn't quite sure whether--but it's really too absurd to explain. I am wide-awake now, at all events!" He was awake now, and knew that no time-bargain of this monstrous kind had ever been actually effected, and all the wild events which seemed to have taken whole months to accomplish themselves, were the work of a single hour's indigestion! He was still a bachelor; still engaged to Sophia: he had still to make the acquaintance of Miss Tyrrell and Miss Davenport, and endure the ordeal of remaining for some weeks to come--to say nothing of the extra hours--exposed to the peril of their fascinations! But whatever happened now, it could not be said, at least, that he had not received abundant warning of the consequences which might ensue from any yielding, however blameless or defensible, on his part. And Peter Tourmalin resolved that henceforth Buckle should monopolise his attention. THE EPILOGUE. There are always a few inquiring persons who, at the conclusion of any story, insist upon being told "what happened after that." And if such a question is ever justified, it is so in the case of a narrative that, as in the present instance, ends almost at the precise moment at which it began. So it is not impossible that some readers may be sufficiently interested to wish to know the particular effect produced upon Peter Tourmalin's subsequent conduct by a vision more than usually complicated and connected.