"My opinion would have very little influence if you were far gone, John.
The fact is, Mrs. Branston, pretty and agreeable as she may be, is not
the sort of woman to acquire any strong hold upon you."

"You think not?"

"I am sure of it."

After this John Saltram became more expansive. They sat together until
late in the night, talking chiefly of the past, old friends, and
half-forgotten days; recalling the scenes through which they had
travelled together with a pensive tenderness, and dwelling regretfully
upon that careless bygone time when life was fresh for both of them, and
the future seemed to lie across the straightest, easiest high-road to
reputation and happiness.

Gilbert spoke of that perilous illness of his in Egypt, the fever in
which he had been given over by every one, and only saved at last by the
exemplary care and devotion of his friend. John Saltram had a profound
objection to this thing being talked about, and tried immediately to
change the drift of the conversation; but to-night Gilbert was not to be
stopped.

"You refuse the help of my purse, Jack," he said, "and forget that I owe
you my life. I should never have been to the fore to navigate the good
ship Fenton and Co., if it hadn't been for your care. The doctor fellow
at Cairo told me as much in very plain terms. Yes, John, I consider
myself your debtor to the amount of a life."

"Saving a man's life is sometimes rather a doubtful boon. I think if I