"
"Oh yes," he cried bitterly. "Just like a woman, backing out now things
are a bit difficult! I tell you, if we're parted when we get to Sydney
I'll be in with the first waster that comes along and start the whole
beastly pub-crawl again--"
"But--eleven shillings, Louis!" she said, laughing at the absurdity of
it.
"We've _got_ to get the money!" he cried wildly. "If I do a burglary!
Look here, Marcella, the only thing is for me to get boozed and borrow
it! If I had half a dozen whiskies I'd go to the Governor-General
himself and get it out of him! But if I were not boozed I couldn't
ask--ask even for the job of gorse-grubbing or road sweeping. I haven't
even the courage to ask you for a kiss if I'm not boozed."
He looked at her. His eyes were infinitely pathetic.
"Is there anyone about?" she whispered.
"Only the man in the crow's-nest," he said, "why?"
"Never mind him--give me a kiss, Louis. I'm not frightened, if you are!"
she whispered softly, and half awkward and shy he held her in his arms,
gathering courage as he felt how she trembled, and guessed how his
kisses made her soft and helpless in his arms. "Let's forget worries for
a while--we'll never be sitting on an anchor in the Indian Ocean again,
in a sea of ghost lights, shall we, Louis?"
"Say 'Louis dear,'" he ordered, gathering courage, kissing her hand.
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