He certainly looked worth ten pounds and his
father's name as a publisher was fairly well known even in the Colonies.
He had frequently "raised" twenty or thirty pounds in this way in New
Zealand. Once or twice he had borrowed a few pounds from a doctor by
telling him a pitiful tale, but most doctors recognized his symptoms and
refused to help him to hurt himself.
Suddenly Marcella gave a little giggle of sheer amusement.
"I don't see much to laugh at," he growled.
"I'm thinking of how worried you were about my dignity as your wife and
afraid I'd disgrace you in hotels by being friendly with the servants,"
she said. "It doesn't look as if we're going to get a tent even."
He read unkindness into her chaffing words and flushed hotly.
Suddenly his silly pride that had lain asleep, for the most part, since
Port Said, gave a little struggle and came to wakefulness again. He
could not have her laugh at him however good-naturedly. Just as he had
not realized he was lying to her when he told her highly coloured
versions of his surgical exploits, so he scarcely realized he was lying,
as he said, mysteriously:
"Don't be too sure, my child. You won't be laughing at me soon. I may be
a bit of a waster, but I'm not the sort to marry a girl without knowing
how I'm going to support her. How do you know you won't be the guest of
the Governor-General as soon as he knows I'm in Sydney--"
"Whatever do you mean? Oh, Louis, don't tell me stories! And I don't
want to go and see people like Governor-Generals.
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