the slow hours, though Dr. Angus sent two
every week. Louis began to lecture her on medicine; he really knew
extraordinarily well what he had learnt: he was an excellent teacher of
facts, but he had not one iota of deductive thought in his teaching and,
like Andrew Lashcairn, was remarkably impatient if she did not
understand or, understanding, ventured to express an opinion of her own
about anything. They had many glamorous nights on the roof, nights that
recalled the enchantment of those hours under the Aurora, nights of
severe mental reservation on Marcella's part, all unsuspected by Louis.
He confessed to her that his ideas were getting modified; a great
confession for so crusted a conservative as he.

One night they were kept awake by a tropical downpour which lashed
against the windows and poured through the ceiling. Three times they had
to get up and move the bed round to escape the stream of water. Marcella
seemed to be spending all the night mopping up water.

"If Mrs. King sees all this mess I expect she'll say we mustn't go up on
the roof again," said Louis. "I suppose we cracked the rusty old iron by
walking about on it."

"I love the roof," said Marcella, patiently mopping. It was three
o'clock: the shrill hum of mosquitoes made them afraid to put out the
light, since they had no mosquito nets. After a while they stood by the
window watching the water running along the street as high as the kerb
stones.

"I love the roof, too. A few months ago I'd have fainted at the thought
of doing anything so unconventional as sleeping on a roof. You are
changing me, Marcella. I'm getting your ideas of not caring what people
think, of being my own censor. And--do you know something else,
Marcella?" he added, looking at her with adoration. Her eyes asked
questions.

"I believe I've got it beat at last."

"The whisky?"

"Yes. I don't want the bally stuff now. I want you instead. I hate you
away from me for an instant. If you went away now, dearie, I'd be raving
with d.t. next day!"

"Oh Louis!"

"I would! I worship you, Marcella. You're life itself to me. I can't get
on two minutes without you."

"But just supposing I did die--seriously, Louis! People get knocked down
in streets and all that. Why shouldn't it be me?"

"I shouldn't attempt to live. I know exactly what I'd do. I've got it
all worked out! I shall just get blind, roaring drunk and then throw
myself in the harbour. My life is useless without you