"Let's go down to my cabin and have something with ice," I suggested promptly.
"Rather!" said she. And before long we were chatting most confidentially, and I had been told the history of her husband's weaknesses. I did not tell her what I knew; I thought it would possibly be of use later on; but two days after—acquaintances develop very rapidly in the tropics on board ship—I had the whole story from her.
"I am sick and tired of him," she confided, "and if I were only certain about his money I shouldn't care a hang how much he drank, or how many doses of morphia he had. He is always jealous," she continued, "and he only wants me just to feel that I am his property and must stay near him while he is maudlin and half helpless."
"I am very sorry for you, poor child," I told her. "I wish I could help you."
"So you can," she answered, sitting up close to me on my settee. "You're a doctor; you can do anything. I'd make it worth your while." And suddenly she leant over and kissed me. "Now you will help me, won't you? I'm so sick of it all," she added with a wicked little smile.
"You run away and let me think matters
