stared at him in the passing light of the street
lamps. He looked so helpless, so much at her mercy. Quite unexpectedly
she leaned over and kissed the tip of his ear. Next minute she was
sobbing uncontrollably, leaning against his arm.

"Oh, why didn't I go in the water? I can't bear it--I can't! I'll never
be able to go through with it! I'm making him no better--and no one can
keep on being disappointed and disappointed and still keeping their
faith. Even to-day, when I ought to have been so happy."

She sat up suddenly, and turned away from Louis, holding out longing
arms for the softness of her mother, the autocratic strength of her
father. But she had to dry her eyes quickly because the cabman had
stopped and was speaking through the window.

"Here we are, ma," he said.

She wrestled with her voice.

"Do you mind--will you ask her, please? I've been crying, and I look
such an idiot."

"Right-o, ma. But don't bother about that. Mrs. King has had her share
o' crying in her time. She won't think nothing of that."

She realized that it was necessary to waken Louis as she heard the door
open and a conversation between two people. A little figure of a woman
came out to the cab and spoke to her.

"It's all right, my dear," she said quietly. "I've got a top room. I'll
be glad to let you have it."

"It's very kind of you," said Marcella. "My husband is--rather--asleep.
How on earth am I going to get him upstairs?"

"I'll get some of my young fellows to carry him up for you," said Mrs.
King. "Don't you fret about it now, dear. Men often have a drop too
much, and it's better to take no notice provided they don't get too
noisy or too ready with their fists."

Marcella smiled faintly and stood stiff as a sentry while Mrs. King
fetched out half a dozen of her lodgers who were playing cards in the
kitchen. They carried Louis upstairs. He was so drugged that he did not
waken.

CHAPTER XV

It was a bare room, up three flights of stairs. Marcella watched while
the men carried him in and laid him on the bed. Mrs. King seemed
inclined to stay and gossip in whispers, but, after thanking her, and
saying they would talk to-morrow, Marcella shut the door and locked it.

Then she looked round. There were three candles burning. With a little
cry of superstitious fear she blew one out and pinched the wick. Through
the two big windows she could see the ships in the harbour with rows of
shining portholes: ferries we