t he
appeared, carrying two of Louis's bags.

He grinned as he came up to the cab.

"He's a lad!" he said genially. "Would make me stop an' wet the wedding.
But it do seem hard to me for the bride to be out of all the fun. Why
don't you go an' wet it, too, ma?"

"Where is--my husband?" she said, stumbling over the word and feeling
sick with fright.

"Over there with his pals. They aren't half having a game. If I was you
I'd go and rout him out! Not much use in a honeymoon when one's boozed
and the other ain't. Now if you was to have a drop too--"

She did not hear what he said. She did not stop to think of dignity or
anything else; the same panic that had almost made her jump overboard at
Melbourne sent her running across the quay, over the gangway on to the
ship. The voices of the men guided her towards them on the silent ship.
Louis was sitting on the hatchway; two champagne bottles were overturned
beside him; he was just pouring whisky from a bottle into a tumbler as
he saw her.

His jaw dropped and he tried to stand up.

"Here's your missus," laughed Ole Fred, who was leaning against him.

Marcella looked from Louis to Fred.

"So you didn't go to New Zealand?" said Marcella quietly, looking at him
with blazing eyes. He blinked at her and tried to smile affably.

"Of course I never thought you would, you horrible, wicked, idiotic old
liar!" she said.

Ole Fred looked thoroughly startled. Louis gazed at Marcella and then at
him.

"Now, ole man--I pu' it to you," said Ole Fred thickly. "Is tha' the
sort of talk you le' your wife use to your bes' pals?"

Louis shook his head reprovingly at her.

"Marsh-shella! Naughty lil' girl! 'Pol'gize! Good Ole Fred! Bes' pal ev'
man had, Mar-shella! Going t' Newze-eeelan'! All 'lone--way from
'smother--way from Ole Country! Give him kish, ole girl--no
ill-feeling--"

Ole Fred got up unsteadily, grinning, and lurched towards her muttering,
"No, no ill-feeling." She realized what he was going to do, and suddenly
felt that she could not live any longer. But first--her father's temper
came to her for a moment and she lost all responsibility. It was the
first time the Lashcairn madness had seized her--and it was not the
raging Berserk fury of her father. She stood quite still, very white.
Ole Fred thought she was waiting passively for his kiss. But when he
reached her on his unsteady feet she caught him by the shoulders, shook
what little breath he had left out of hi