He had not
taken any of her money. On Mrs. King's advice she had gone up on the
roof one day, crept along three other roofs and hidden it in a gully.
"You've got to be up to all the dodges," said Mrs. King.
"I loathe dodges," said Marcella.
She got down to the depths in this fortnight. Louis scarcely slept at
all, nor did she. Soothing him at night sickened her beyond endurance;
she read the New Testament much during the day while he was away, and
the story of the Grail. One day St. Paul said something to her that
brought her up sharp.
"Though I give my body to be burned and have not love, it profiteth me
nothing; love suffereth long, and is kind: love--beareth all things,
believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things."
"I don't believe I love him. I don't believe I ever loved him. That
madness wasn't love, or it would have endured all things," she said.
Then Parsifal told her that without love pity might still endure all
things. By the time she had been married two months her pity for him
was an overwhelming ache. He pretended penitence to win it: he had no
need to pretend....
At last he had no money. Everything portable he had sold, including some
of her clothes. His drink hunger was tearing him. She was going about
the room with big, mournful eyes and white face, making a meal for him.
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