"Louis, listen to me," she said quietly. "I'm not going to let you die
like father died. I'm not going to let your heart get all horrible and
thumping so that you can't lie down, and your feet and hands swollen and
white and horrible. And I'm not going to have you shut up in an asylum."

"It's good of you to bother," he said humbly, "but I can see it's no
good. You can't stop it. I can't myself. You'd get fed up. You'll get
fed up with me as it is before we get to Sydney. You'll be jolly glad to
get rid of me and be off with the uncle into the backblocks. I insulted
and sickened and shamed Violet till she threw me over. And she loved me.
I know very well she did."

"I won't let you be rude to me, Louis. I'm not quite like Violet,
perhaps. If people are rude to me I don't get hurt. I just give them a
good shaking and forget it. Besides, I couldn't get cross with anyone
for being ill, could I? And I'm going to make you get better before we
get to Sydney."

He shook his head hopelessly.

"I mean it. I am going to keep worrying you about it till you stop it
dead. I'll make it seem a dreadful nuisance to you."

"It may work," he said slowly, impressed by her certainty. "So long as
we're on the ship. If you can keep me from the Ole Fred gang. But it'll
be all up when we get to Sydney and you leave me."

"Well then, I'll stay in Sydney," she said, making up her mind casually.
"I'll tell uncle I don't want to go and live with him. I'll find some
way of staying with you."

"I say, do you mean it?" he cried. "After my rudeness?"

"Of course I mean it. It will be fun! I love a fight!"

"And you mean that you really care about me?"

"Of course I care! I believe I'll die if you don't get better," she said
eagerly.

He fumbled in his pockets, lit several matches and put something in her
hand.

"Here it is, look. Thirteen pounds, eight and fivepence."

"What's that for?"

"It's all my money. If I have any I'll be magnetized towards the bar. If
I haven't, it's much safer. And look here, Marcella, if I come and knock
you down with a sledgehammer, don't let me have that money, will you?"

"I won't," she said promptly.

She was thrilled, exhilarated, as they went below after shaking hands
solemnly. She was Siegfried, and the dragon had a pock-marked face, and
each foot had three claws missing. She thought, as she looked through
dream-misted eyes, that the dragon was a very long one, with many legs
and many heads. B