"Louis," she said one evening, "I've learnt a lot of things lately. I've learnt that I must never believe a word you say, for one thing. And I'm going to act on that. But what's worrying me most is that we have practically no money left."
"You see," she went on calmly, "I believed in your work, so I was not particularly careful with the money. That's one thing. Another is that we're both going to work or you'll be worse and I'll murder you soon. Number three is that we're going to get out of this city where you won't be in constant temptation. Perhaps when you've got some nerve back again we'll live among people again. You can't stay in bed for the rest of your life. You'd be bored to drink in no time--"
"I couldn't be bored where you are, girlie," he whispered tenderly. "How could I be?"
"I don't know, but you are. And so am I," she said grimly. He stared at her and was silent.
"What are we going to do till we get away, then?" he asked. "We've still got the Pater's money--"
"Yes, that will come for weeks yet. I've thought all about that. If I were heroic I suppose I'd not touch it. But I don't see how we can avoid it."
"But it isn't enough to get out of Sydney with," he said petulantly.
"Yes it is. I'm going to find work for us," she informed him.
"Anything--farm work is all I know. But probably I could cook. Mrs. King has told me a good many things to make."
"But, Marcella--" began Louis, almost tearfully.
"Louis, you're to leave this to me. On the _Oriana_ you said you would. I'm your doctor and I'm prescribing treatment. I may be wrong, but give me a trial, anyway. I don't want to boss you. I want you to be free. But you can't till you've learnt how to walk yourself."
And she would say no more, but going to several agencies in Pitt Street put down their names. She told them she came from a farm in Scotland, and they seemed very pleased to see her. But when she added that she was married to an Englishman who had a public-school education they became sceptical.
"What can he do?" they asked. She hesitated.
"Rouseabout?" asked the clerk. When they explained that this meant being Jack-of-all-trades on an up-country station, Marcella, in a spirit of sheer mischief, said that would suit Louis well. She liked the busy sound of the word, too. But though she called at the agencies day after day, no one seemed to want her. At last a clerk, an elderly, pleasant woman explained.