If I give it to you you can't be a thief any
more."
Between them they had just enough money for Fred and a few shillings
left. He wept as she fastened it in an envelope and asked him to take it
along to Fred's cabin at once.
"I--I s-say, Marcella. I--I--d-daren't," he groaned. "He'll ask me to
wet it. And I'll not be able to say no. And oh my God, I don't want to
do it any more."
"Then I'll take it," she said promptly, and darted along with it to
Number Fifteen, listened while Ole Fred said every insulting thing he
could about Louis and all Louis's ancestors and then calmly asked him
for a receipt for the money.
Louis was still sitting on the floor. He looked up, his bloodshot eyes
appealing as he looked at her.
"I say, M-m-marcella. I'm sorry I said all those nasty things about your
father."
"There you are again, Louis! Forget them all! Forget everything but the
future now. I can't imagine where I've got this conviction from, but
it's absolutely right, I know. If you'll wipe out all your memory and
start clean, you'll be cured."
"I could never do as your father did--all that religion business."
"I don't think I could, Louis. Father saw God as a militant Captain,
someone outside himself. I'd never get thinking that about God. But it
seems to me, in your case, you want to find someone you could trust,
someone who would take the responsibility from you.
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