I feel that father would not mind my telling you about him, if it can
help you from suffering as he did. He cured himself."

"How?" he cried with sudden, breathless hopefulness.

"There, that's the awfulness of it. I don't know. I only know that one
day he was drunk, and the next day he was not, and never was again. He
said he gave all his burden to God."

He shook himself impatiently.

"Oh, I can't believe in all that rot!" he said harshly. "I neither trust
God nor myself."

Below deck the mandoline began to twang again, and the soft Italian
voice went on with "La Donna E Mobile" interminably.

"Louis, listen to me," she said quietly. "I'm not going to let you die
like father died. I'm not going to let your heart get all horrible and
thumping so that you can't lie down, and your feet and hands swollen and
white and horrible. And I'm not going to have you shut up in an asylum."

"It's good of you to bother," he said humbly, "but I can see it's no
good. You can't stop it. I can't myself. You'd get fed up. You'll get
fed up with me as it is before we get to Sydney. You'll be jolly glad to
get rid of me and be off with the uncle into the backblocks. I insulted
and sickened and shamed Violet till she threw me over. And she loved me.
I know very well she did."

"I won't let you be rude to me, Louis. I'm not quite like Violet,