It's waste and
lunacy to think of it. And I--ten years of my life wasted by a neurosis!
And your father, and Lord knows how many millions more! I'll tell you
this much, Marcella! Before five years have gone by I'll be in the
battlefield against illness, and I'll be damned if illness won't have to
look out! I loathe it, just as you do! I resent it! I'm going to stop
it. Listen, old girl, as soon as you're out of that hospital, you're off
to England, and I'm going to the Pater, and I'm going on my knees to beg
him to give me another go at the hospital. I've got to get my tools
ready, you know--"
"Do you think your father will?"
"He'll be sceptical. I should if I were he. I've been such a bounder to
him in the past. But if he's too sceptical to help--well, I'll go to
Buckingham Palace and ask King George to lend me the money! I should
think he'd be jolly glad to think there was a chance of wiping out
illness for ever."
Tears brimmed over: it was when she saw the eternal child in Louis that
she loved him most, and was most afraid for him; not afraid now that he
would waste himself again, but afraid that he would never touch the
mountain-tops at which he was aiming.
"Yes, we'll go home," she said dreamily. "And I'll take you on
Lashnagar--and we'll see them all again. I'll ask Uncle to give us the
money to take us home.
Pages:
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537