went
out of his way to entertain her: Knollys brought unexpected tea in the
morning in an attempt to make up for the loss of Louis. A young
Scotsman, a sugar planter going out to the Islands, to whom she had
talked until the fact that she was "another man's girl" had put a taboo
upon her, insisted that she should, in the cold evenings on deck, wear
his fur coat which he had brought rather unnecessarily; Jimmy tried to
comfort her with apples. Mrs. Hetherington, whom the end of the voyage
had left nervy and cross, said cattish things. She thought Marcella had
shown very little tact in throwing herself at Louis; she advised her,
with the next man, not to tire him out.

"Oh, you're an idiot," cried Marcella, her eyes full of tears, and
decided that this was an occasion for her father's favourite epithet. "A
double-distilled idiot! How have you managed Mr. Peters except by never
leaving him alone for a minute?"

"I am a woman of the world, and understand men," she said airily. "I
wove a net about him--in ways you would not understand, my child."

"Don't want to," snapped Marcella. "I'm not a spider!"

They anchored out in the stream in Sydney Harbour, going ashore in
tenders. Marcella scanned the quay anxiously to find Louis, though
Knollys told her that he would, most probably, be in by train to-morrow
at noon. But she had an idea that he might have got through earlier, and
hurried up to the General Post Office, which he had told her was his
only address in the Colonies, to which his letters were sent. But it was
a fruitless errand. Enquiry at the station told her that, as Knollys had
said, the next train possible for Louis would be in at noon to-morrow.
She turned back through the streets that were so extraordinarily like
London in spite of Chinese, German and Italian names. As she passed the
Post Office for the second time it occurred to her that there might be
letters for her there, and found quite a bundle of them in a little
pigeonhole high up. There was also a cablegram that had been waiting two
days. She opened that first. It was extravagantly long; the name
"Carlossie" at the head of it gave her a sickening pang of homesickness
for a moment. She read:

"Letter from Port Said arrived. Very anxious. Only way you treat drunkard
is leave him alone. Impossible cure. Above all do not marry him or shall
blame myself. Writing. Await letter I implore you.--Angus."

It was extraordinary extravagance for Dr. Angus. She