“Quick!⁠ ⁠… I’ve got to get back.” Stephen stood up. “God knows what they think of me at home as it is.⁠ ⁠… Say you’ll go, John⁠— here’s the key of the boat⁠ ⁠… she’ll start at once now.⁠ ⁠… It’s a thousand to one chance, but it’s worth it.⁠ ⁠… And if you’re not quick it’ll go past again.”

Something of his old masterfulness was coming back with his excitement. But when John still hesitated, his slow mouth framing the beginnings of objection, the hunted look came upon Stephen again.

“John, for God’s sake!” he said, with a low, pleading note. “I’m about done, old man⁠ ⁠… what with Margery and⁠—and⁠ ⁠… but there’s still a chance⁠ ⁠… John!”

The wretched John was melted again. He left his objections to the preposterous proposal unspoken. He put his hand affectionately on the other’s shoulder.

“It’s all right, Stephen.⁠ ⁠… I’ll manage it somehow⁠ ⁠… don’t you worry, old boy.⁠ ⁠… I’ll manage it.”