n she kissed him by turning away and saying, "There, that's
enough, now!"; he found fault with her clothes and, one morning as she
was dressing, said he was tired of seeing her cleaning the room; she
seemed to think that that was all he needed--a nurse and a servant,
since she never troubled to make herself attractive to him. Several
times, coming from doing her cooking in the basement, she found Mr. King
slinking along the top landing, but did not associate him with Louis.
Several times she thought she smelt whisky, but told herself angrily
that she was dreaming. Then, one day, coming in from the Post Office,
she found Louis gone. One thing she noticed as she came along the
landing was an empty bottle in the dark corner behind the door. As soon
as she opened the door she saw three whisky bottles, empty, on the
mantelpiece. On a piece of paper he had written:

"Get all the satisfaction you can out of these, old girl. I'm off."

She felt cold with horror, but there was nothing she could do. Mrs. King
said that she had seen him go out at two o'clock. And that was all she
could learn. For the rest of the afternoon and evening she was almost
frantic with fear. But the money was not touched. She could not imagine
what had happened until Mrs. King told her that Mr. King had confessed
to getting letters containing money from the Post Office for Louis, and
buying him whisky. Marcella ran out of the house, almost crazed with
fright, to look for him. When she had only gone a few hundred yards she
ran back, afraid he might come in and need her. It was not until after
midnight that a violent knocking on the front door roused Mrs. King and
sent Marcella down the stairs in a panic.

It was Louis. His eyes were wild, his clothes muddy. He lurched past
Mrs. King and, making a great effort, managed to get upstairs.

In the room, instinct made Marcella shut and lock the door. He had
thrown himself on the bed, his muddy boots on the coverlet. He lay there
breathing heavily for awhile until he was violently sick.

"Oh, Louis--my poor little boy!" she cried, forgetting that he was drunk
in her fear that he was ill.

"You think I'm drunk, ole girl--not drunk 'tall, ole girl."

"Well, get undressed and get into bed," she said, trying to help. He
struck her hand away from his collar fiercely and, holding her arms
twisted them until she had to beg him to let her go.

"Aft' my papers," he cried fiercely. Then he seemed to recognize her an