301:001,00@@@@@|
301:001,01['  ]| A bunch of workmen were lying on$4$ the grass of the park
301:001,02['  ]| beside Macquarie*Street, in$4$ the dinner hour.  It was
301:001,03['  ]| winter, the end of May, but the sun was warm, and they
301:001,04['  ]| lay there in$4$ shirt-sleeves, talking.  Some were eating food
301:001,05['  ]| from paper packages.  They were a mixed lot ~~ taxi-drivers,
301:001,06['  ]| a group of builders who$6#1$ were putting a new inside
301:001,07['  ]| into one of the big houses opposite, and then two men in$4$
301:001,08['  ]| blue overalls, some sort of mechanics.  Squatting and
301:001,09['  ]| lying on$4$ the grassy bank beside the broad tarred road
301:001,10['  ]| where taxis and hansom*cabs passed continually, they had
301:001,11['  ]| that$6#2$ air of owning the city which$6#1$ belongs to$4$ a good
301:001,12['  ]| Australian.
301:001,13['  ]| Sometimes, from the distance behind them, came the
301:001,14['  ]| faintest squeal of singing from out of the "fortified"
301:001,15['  ]| Conservatorium*of*Music.  Perhaps it was one of these
301:001,16['  ]| faintly wafted squeals that$6#1$ made a blue-overalled fellow
301:001,17['  ]| look round, lifting his thick eyebrows vacantly.  His eyes
301:001,18['  ]| immediately rested on$4$ two figures approaching from the
301:001,19['  ]| direction of the conservatorium, across the grass-lawn.
301:001,20['  ]| One was a mature, handsome, fresh-faced woman, who$6#1$
301:001,21['  ]| might have been Russian.  Her companion was a smallish
301:001,22['  ]| man, pale-faced, with a dark beard.  Both were well-dressed,
301:001,23['  ]| and quiet, with that$6#2$ quiet self-possession which$6#1$ is
301:001,24['  ]| almost unnatural nowadays.  They looked different from
301:001,25['  ]| other people.
301:001,26['  ]| A smile flitted over the face of the man in$4$ the overalls
301:001,27['  ]| ~~ or rather a grin.  Seeing the strange, foreign-looking
301:001,28['  ]| little man with the beard and the absent air of self-possession
301:001,29['  ]| walking unheeding over the grass, the workman
301:001,30['  ]| instinctively grinned.  
301:001,30@c   | A comical-looking bloke!  Perhaps
301:001,31@c   | a Bolshy.
301:001,32['  ]| The foreign-looking little stranger turned his eyes and
301:001,33['  ]| caught the workman grinning.  Half-sheepishly, the
301:001,34['  ]| mechanic had eased round to$9$ nudge his mate to$9$ look also
301:001,35['  ]| at the comical-looking bloke.  And the bloke caught them
301:001,36['  ]| both.  They wiped the grin off their faces.  Because the
301:001,37['  ]| little bloke looked at them quite straight, so$5#1$ observant,
301:001,38['  ]| and so$5#1$ indifferent.  He saw that$3$ the mechanic had a fine
301:002,01['  ]| face, and pleasant eyes, and that$3$ the grin was hardly
301:002,02['  ]| more than a city habit.  The man in$4$ the blue overalls
301:002,03['  ]| looked into the distance, recovering his dignity after
301:002,04['  ]| the encounter.
301:002,05['  ]| So$3$ the pair of strangers passed on$5$, across the wide
301:002,06['  ]| asphalt road to$4$ one of the tall houses opposite.  The workman
301:002,07['  ]| looked at the house into which$6#1$ they had entered.
301:002,08[C  ]| "What do you make of them, Dug?"  
301:002,08['  ]| asked the one in$4$
301:002,09['  ]| the overalls.
301:002,10[W  ]| "Dunnow!  Fritzies, most likely."
301:002,11[C  ]| "They were talking English."
301:002,12[W  ]| "Would be, naturally ~~ what yer expect?"
301:002,13[C  ]| "I do not think they were German."
301:002,14[W  ]| "Do not yer, Jack?  Mebbe they were not then."
301:002,15['  ]| Dug was absolutely unconcerned.  But Jack was piqued
301:002,16['  ]| by$4$ the funny little bloke.
301:002,17['  ]| Unconsciously he watched the house across the road.
301:002,18['  ]| It was a more-or-less expensive boarding-house.  There
301:002,19['  ]| appeared the foreign little bloke dumping down a gladstone
301:002,20['  ]| bag at the top of the steps that$6#1$ led from the porch to$4$ the
301:002,21['  ]| street, and the woman, the wife apparently, was coming
301:002,22['  ]| out and dumping down a black hat-box.  Then the man
301:002,23['  ]| made another excursion into the house, and came out with
301:002,24['  ]| another bag, which$6#1$ he likewise dumped down at the top
301:002,25['  ]| of the steps.  Then he had a few words with the wife, and
301:002,26['  ]| scanned the street.
301:002,27[C  ]| "Wants a taxi," 
301:002,27['  ]| said Jack to$4$ himself.
301:002,28['  ]| There were two taxis standing by$4$ the kerb near the open
301:002,29['  ]| grassy slope of the park, opposite the tall brown houses.
301:002,30['  ]| The foreign-looking bloke came down the steps and across
301:002,31['  ]| the wide asphalt road to$4$ them.  He looked into one, and
301:002,32['  ]| then into the other.  Both were empty.  The drivers were
301:002,33['  ]| lying on$4$ the grass smoking an after-luncheon cigar.
301:002,34[C  ]| "Bloke wants a taxi," 
301:002,34['  ]| said Jack.
301:002,35[W  ]| "Could have told \you\ that$6#2$," 
301:002,35['  ]| said the nearest driver.
301:002,36['  ]| But nobody moved.
301:002,37['  ]| The stranger stood on$4$ the pavement beside the big,
301:002,38['  ]| cream-coloured taxi, and looked across at the group of men
301:002,39['  ]| on$4$ the grass.  He did not want to$9$ address them.
301:002,40[C  ]| "Want a taxi?"  
301:002,40['  ]| called Jack.
301:002,41[A  ]| "Yes.  Where are the drivers?"  
301:002,41['  ]| replied the stranger,
301:002,42['  ]| in$4$ unmistakeable English:  English of the old country.
301:003,01[W  ]| "Where do you want to$9$ go?"  
301:003,01['  ]| called the driver of the
301:003,02['  ]| cream-coloured taxi, without rising from the grass.
301:003,03[A  ]| "Murdoch*Street."
301:003,04[W  ]| "Murdoch*Street?  What number?"
301:003,05[A  ]| "Fifty-one."
301:003,06[W  ]| "Neighbour of yours, Jack," 
301:003,06['  ]| said Dug, turning to$4$ his
301:003,07['  ]| mate.
301:003,08[C ]| "Taking it furnished, four guineas a week," 
301:003,08['  ]| said Jack
301:003,09['  ]| in$4$ a tone of information.
301:003,10[W  ]| "All right," 
301:003,10['  ]| said the driver of the cream-coloured taxi,
301:003,11['  ]| rising at last from the grass.  
301:003,11[W  ]| "I will$1$ take you."
301:003,12[A  ]| "Go across to$4$ 120 first," 
301:003,12['  ]| said the little bloke, pointing
301:003,13['  ]| to$4$ the house.  
301:003,13[A  ]| "There is my wife and the bags.  But
301:003,14[A  ]| look!"  
301:003,14['  ]| he added quickly.  
301:003,14[A  ]| "You are not going to$9$ charge
301:003,15[A  ]| me a shilling each for$4$ the bags."
301:003,16[W  ]| "What bags?  Where are they?"
301:003,17[A  ]| "There at the top of the steps."
301:003,18[W  ]| "All right, I will$1$ pull across and look at them."
301:003,19['  ]| The bloke walked across, and the taxi at length curved
301:003,20['  ]| round after him.  The stranger had carried his bags to$4$
301:003,21['  ]| the foot of the steps:  two ordinary-sized gladstones, and
301:003,22['  ]| one smallish square hat-box.  There they stood against
301:003,23['  ]| the wall.  The taxi-driver poked out his head to$9$ look at
301:003,24['  ]| them.  He surveyed them steadily.  The stranger stood
301:003,25['  ]| at bay.
301:003,26[W  ]| "Shilling apiece, them bags," 
301:003,26['  ]| said the driver laconically.
301:003,27['  ]|
301:003,28[A  ]| "Oh no$7$.  The tariff is three-pence," 
301:003,28['  ]| cried the stranger.
301:003,29[W  ]| "Shilling \apiece\, them bags," 
301:003,29['  ]| repeated the driver.  He
301:003,30['  ]| was one of the proletariat that$6#1$ has learnt the uselessness
301:003,31['  ]| of argument.
301:003,32[A  ]| "That$6#2$ is not just, the tariff is threepence."
301:003,33[W  ]| "All right, if you do not want to$9$ pay the fare, do not
301:003,34[W  ]| engage the car, that$6#2$ is all.  Them bags is a shilling apiece."
301:003,35[A  ]| "Very well, I do not want to$9$ pay so$5#1$ much."
301:003,36[W  ]| "Oh, all right.  If you do not, you will$1$ not.  But they will$1$
301:003,37[W  ]| cost you a shilling apiece on$4$ a taxi, and there you are."
301:003,38[A  ]| "Then I do not want a taxi."
301:003,39[W  ]| "Then why do not you say so$5#2$.  There is no$2$ harm done.
301:003,40[W  ]| I do not want to$9$ charge you for$4$ pulling across here to$9$ look
301:003,41[W  ]| at the bags.  If you do not want a taxi, you do not.  I
301:003,42[W  ]| suppose you know your own mind."
301:004,01['  ]| Thus saying he pushed off the brakes and the taxi slowly
301:004,02['  ]| curved round on$4$ the road to$9$ resume its previous stand.
301:004,03['  ]| The strange little bloke and his wife stood at the foot of
301:004,04['  ]| the steps beside the bags, looking angry.  And then a
301:004,05['  ]| hansom-cab came clock-clocking slowly along the road,
301:004,06['  ]| also going to$9$ draw up$5$ for$4$ the dinner hour at the quiet
301:004,07['  ]| place opposite.  But the driver spied the angry couple.
301:004,08[W  ]| "Want a cab, sir?"
301:004,09[A  ]| "Yes, but I do not think you can get the bags on$5$."
301:004,10[W  ]| "How many bags?"
301:004,11[A  ]| "Three.  These three," 
301:004,11['  ]| and he kicked them with his
301:004,12['  ]| toe, angrily.
301:004,13['  ]| The hansom-driver looked down from his Olympus.  He
301:004,14['  ]| was very red-faced, and a little bit humble.
301:004,15[W  ]| "Them three?  Oh yes!  Easy!  Easy!  Get them on$5$
301:004,16[W  ]| easy.  Get them on$5$ easy, no$2$ trouble at all."  
301:004,16['  ]| And he
301:004,17['  ]| clambered down from his perch, and resolved into a little
301:004,18['  ]| red-faced man, rather beery and hen-pecked looking.
301:004,19['  ]| He stood gazing at the bags.  On$4$ one was printed the
301:004,20['  ]| name:  
301:004,20[A  ]| "R%*L%*Somers."
301:004,21[W  ]| "\R%*L%*Somers\!  All right, you get in$5$, sir and madam.
301:004,22[W  ]| You get in$5$.  Where do you want to$9$ go?  Station?"
301:004,23[A  ]| "No$7$.  Fifty-one Murdoch*Street."
301:004,24[W  ]| "All right, all right, I will$1$ take you.  Fairish long way,
301:004,25[W  ]| but we will$1$ be there under an hour."
301:004,26['  ]| Mr*Somers and his wife got into the cab.  The cabby left
301:004,27['  ]| the doors flung wide open, and piled the three bags there
301:004,28['  ]| like$4$ a tower in$4$ front of his two fares.  The hat-box was on$4$
301:004,29['  ]| top, almost touching the brown hairs of the horse's tail,
301:004,30['  ]| and perching gingerly.
301:004,31[W  ]| "If you will$1$ keep a hand on$4$ that$6#2$, now, to$9$ steady it," 
301:004,31['  ]| said
301:004,32['  ]| the cabby.
301:004,33[A  ]| "All right," 
301:004,33['  ]| said Somers.
301:004,34['  ]| The man climbed to$4$ his perch, and the hansom and the
301:004,35['  ]| extraneous tower began to$9$ joggle away into the town.  The
301:004,36['  ]| group of workmen were still lying on$4$ the grass.  But
301:004,37['  ]| Somers did not care about them.  He was safely jogging
301:004,38['  ]| with his detested baggage to$4$ his destination.
301:004,39[B  ]| "Are not they \vile\!"  
301:004,39['  ]| said Harriet, the wife.
301:004,40[A  ]| "It is God's Own Country, as they always tell you,"
301:004,41['  ]| said Somers.  
301:004,41[A  ]| "The hansom-man was quite nice."
301:004,42[B  ]| "But the taxi-drivers!  And the man charged you eight
301:005,01[B  ]| shillings on$4$ Saturday for$4$ what would be two shillings in$4$
301:005,02[B  ]| London!"
301:005,03[A  ]| "He rooked me.  But there you are, in$4$ a free country,
301:005,04[A  ]| it is the man who$6#1$ makes you pay who$6#1$ is free ~~ free to$9$ charge
301:005,05[A  ]| you what he likes, and you are forced to$9$ pay it.  That$6#2$ is
301:005,06[A  ]| what freedom amounts to$4$.  They are free to$9$ charge, and
301:005,07[A  ]| you are forced to$9$ pay."
301:005,08['  ]| In$4$ which$6#1$ state of mind they jogged through the city,
301:005,09['  ]| catching a glimpse from the top of a hill of the famous
301:005,10['  ]| harbour spreading out with its many arms and legs.  Or at
301:005,11['  ]| leat they saw one bay with warships and steamers lying
301:005,12['  ]| between the houses and the wooded, bank-like shores, and
301:005,13['  ]| they saw the centre of the harbour, and the opposite squat
301:005,14['  ]| cliffs ~~ the whole low wooded table-land reddened with
301:005,15['  ]| suburbs and interrupted by$4$ the pale spaces of the many-lobed
301:005,16['  ]| harbour.  The sky had gone grey, and the low table-land
301:005,17['  ]| into which$6#1$ the harbour intrudes squatted dark-looking
301:005,18['  ]| and monotonous and sad, as if lost on$4$ the face of the earth:
301:005,19['  ]| the same Australian atmosphere, even here within the area
301:005,20['  ]| of huge, restless, modern Sydney, whose million inhabitants
301:005,21['  ]| seem to$9$ slip like$4$ fishes from one side of the harbour
301:005,22['  ]| to$4$ another.
301:005,23['  ]| Murdoch*Street was an old sort of suburb, little squat
301:005,24['  ]| bungalows with corrugated iron roofs, painted red.  Each
301:005,25['  ]| little bungalow was set in$4$ its own hand-breadth of ground,
301:005,26['  ]| surrounded by$4$ a little wooden palisade fence.  And there
301:005,27['  ]| went the long street, like$4$ a child's drawing, the little square
301:005,28['  ]| bungalows dot-dot-dot, close together and yet apart, like$4$
301:005,29['  ]| modern democracy, each one fenced round with a square
301:005,30['  ]| rail fence.  The street was wide, and strips of worn grass
301:005,31['  ]| took the place of kerb-stones.  The stretch of macadam in$4$
301:005,32['  ]| the middle seemed as forsaken as a desert, as the hansom
301:005,33['  ]| clock-clocked along it.
301:005,34['  ]| Fifty-one had its name painted by$4$ the door.  Somers
301:005,35['  ]| had been watching these names.  He had passed
301:005,36['  ]| "Elite," and "9Tre`s*Bon" and "The*Angels*Roost"
301:005,37['  ]| and "The*Better*'Ole."  He rather hoped for$4$ one of the
301:005,38['  ]| Australian names, Wallamby or Wagga-Wagga.  When
301:005,39['  ]| he had looked at the house and agreed to$9$ take it for$4$
301:005,40['  ]| three months, it had been dusk, and he had not noticed
301:005,41['  ]| the name.  He hoped it would be U-An-Me, or even
301:005,42['  ]| Stella*Maris.
301:006,01[A  ]| "Forestin," 
301:006,01['  ]| he said, reading the flourishing T as an F.
301:006,02[A  ]| "What language do you imagine that$6#2$ is?"
301:006,03[B  ]| "It is T, not F," 
301:006,03['  ]| said Harriet.
301:006,04[A  ]| "Torestin," 
301:006,04['  ]| he said, pronouncing it like$4$ Russion.
301:006,05[A  ]| "Must be a native word."
301:006,06[B  ]| "No$7$," 
301:006,06['  ]| said Harriet.  
301:006,06[B  ]| "It means \To$9$ rest in$4$\."  
301:006,06['  ]| She
301:006,07['  ]| did not even laugh at him.  He became painfully silent.
301:006,08['  ]| Harriet did not mind very much.  They had been on$4$ the
301:006,09['  ]| move for$4$ four months, and she felt if she could but come
301:006,10['  ]| to$9$ anchor somewhere in$4$ a corner of her own, she would not
301:006,11['  ]| much care where it was, or whether it was called Torestin
301:006,12['  ]| or Angels*Roost or even 9Tre`s*Bon.
301:006,13['  ]| It was, thank heaven, quite a clean little bungalow, with
301:006,14['  ]| just commonplace furniture, nothing very preposterous.
301:006,15['  ]| Before Harriet had even taken her hat off she removed
301:006,16['  ]| four pictures from the wall, and the red plush tablecloth
301:006,17['  ]| from the table.  Somers had disconsolately opened the
301:006,18['  ]| bags, so$3$ she fished out an Indian sarong of purplish shot
301:006,19['  ]| colour, to$9$ try how it would look across the table.  But the
301:006,20['  ]| walls were red, of an awful deep bluey red, that$6#1$ looks so$5#1$
301:006,21['  ]| fearful with dark-oak fittings and furniture:  or dark-stained
301:006,22['  ]| jarrah, which$6#1$ amounts to$4$ the same thing; and
301:006,23['  ]| Somers snapped, looking at the purple sarong ~~ a lovely
301:006,24['  ]| thing in$4$ itself:
301:006,25[A  ]| "Not with red walls."
301:006,26[B  ]| "No$7$, I suppose not," 
301:006,26['  ]| said Harriet, disappointed.
301:006,27[B  ]| "We can easily colour-wash them white ~~ or cream."
301:006,28[A  ]| "What, start colour-washing walls?"
301:006,29[B  ]| "It would only take half a day."
301:006,30[A  ]| "That$6#2$ is what we come to$4$ a new land for$4$ ~~ to$4$ God's Own
301:006,31[A  ]| Country ~~ to$9$ start colour-washing walls in$4$ a beastly little
301:006,32[A  ]| suburban bungalow?  That$6#1$ we have hired for$4$ three months
301:006,33[A  ]| and may not live in$4$ three weeks!"
301:006,34[B  ]| "Why not?  You must have walls."
301:006,35[A  ]| "I suppose you must," 
301:006,35['  ]| he said, going away to$9$ inspect
301:006,36['  ]| the two little bedrooms, and the kitchen, and the outside.
301:006,37['  ]| There was a scrap of garden at the back, with a path down
301:006,38['  ]| the middle, and a fine Australian tree at the end, a tree
301:006,39['  ]| with pale bark and no$2$ leaves, but big tufts of red, spikey
301:006,40['  ]| flowers.  He looked at the flowers in$4$ wonder.  They were
301:006,41['  ]| apparently some sort of bean*flower, in$4$ sharp tufts, like$4$
301:006,42['  ]| great red spikes of stiff wisteria, curving upwards, not
301:007,01['  ]| dangling.  They looked handsome against the blue sky:
301:007,02['  ]| but again, extraneous.  More like$4$ scarlet cockatoos perched
301:007,03['  ]| in$4$ the bare tree, than natural growing flowers.  Queer
301:007,04['  ]| burning red, and hard red flowers!  They call it
301:007,05['  ]| coral*tree.
301:007,06['  ]| There was a little round summer-house also, with a flat
301:007,07['  ]| roof and steps going up$5$.  Somers mounted, and found that$3$
301:007,08['  ]| from the lead-covered roof of the little round place he could
301:007,09['  ]| look down the middle harbour, and even see the low gateway,
301:007,10['  ]| the low headlands with the lighthouse, opening to$4$ the
301:007,11['  ]| full Pacific.  There was the way out to$4$ the open Pacific,
301:007,12['  ]| the white surf breaking.  A tramp*steamer was just coming
301:007,13['  ]| in$5$, under her shaft of black smoke.
301:007,14['  ]| But near at hand nothing but bungalows ~~ street after
301:007,15['  ]| street.  This was one of the old-fashioned bits of Sydney.
301:007,16['  ]| A little further off the streets of proper brick houses
301:007,17['  ]| clustered.  But here on$4$ this hill the original streets of
301:007,18['  ]| bungalow places remained almost untouched, still hinting
301:007,19['  ]| at the temporary shacks run up$5$ in$4$ the wilderness.
301:007,20['  ]| Somers felt a little uneasy because he could look down
301:007,21['  ]| into the whole range of his neighbours' gardens and back
301:007,22['  ]| premises.  He tried not to$9$ look at them.  But Harriet had
301:007,23['  ]| come climbing after him to$9$ survey the world, and she
301:007,24['  ]| began:
301:007,25[B  ]| "Is not it lovely up$4$ here!  Do you see the harbour? ~~
301:007,26[B  ]| and the way we came in$5$!  Look, look I remember looking
301:007,27[B  ]| out of the porthole and seeing that$6#2$ lighthouse, just as we
301:007,28[B  ]| came in$5$ ~~ and those little brown cliffs.  Oh, but it is a
301:007,29[B  ]| wonderful harbour.  What it must have been when it was
301:007,30[B  ]| first discovered.  And now all these little dog-kennely
301:007,31[B  ]| houses, and everything.  But this next garden is lovely;
301:007,32[B  ]| have you seen the ~~ what are they, the lovely flowers?"
301:007,33[A  ]| "Dahlias."
301:007,34[B  ]| "But did ever you see such dahlias!  Are you sure
301:007,35[B  ]| they are dahlias?  They are like$4$ pink chrysanthemums ~~ and
301:007,36[B  ]| like$4$ roses ~~ oh, lovely!  But all these little dog-kennels ~~
301:007,37[B  ]| awful piggling suburban place ~~ and sort of lousy.  Is this
301:007,38[B  ]| all men can do with a new country?  Look at those tin
301:007,39[B  ]| cans!"
301:007,40[A  ]| "What do you expect them to$9$ do.  Rome was not built
301:007,41[A  ]| in$4$ a day."
301:007,42[B  ]| "Oh, but they might make it nice.  Look at all the little
301:008,01[B  ]| backs:  like$4$ chicken houses with chicken-runs.  They call
301:008,02[B  ]| this making a new country, do they?"
301:008,03[A  ]| "Well, how would you start making a new country
301:008,04[A  ]| yourself?"  
301:008,04['  ]| asked Somers, a little impatiently.
301:008,05[B  ]| "I would not have towns ~~ and corrugated iron ~~ and
301:008,06[B  ]| millions of little fences ~~ and empty tins."
301:008,07[A  ]| "No$7$, you would have old chateaus and Tudor manors."
301:008,08['  ]| They went down, hearing a banging at the back door,
301:008,09['  ]| and seeing a tradesman with a basket on$4$ his arm.  And for$4$
301:008,10['  ]| the rest of the day they were kept busy going to$4$ the door
301:008,11['  ]| to$9$ tell the inexhaustible tradespeople that$3$ they were now
301:008,12['  ]| fixed up$5$ with grocer and butcher and baker and all the
301:008,13['  ]| rest.  Night came on$5$, and Somers sat on$4$ his tub of a
301:008,14['  ]| summer-house looking at the lights glittering thick in$4$
301:008,15['  ]| swarms in$4$ the various hollows down to$4$ the water, and the
301:008,16['  ]| lighthouses flashing in$4$ the distance, and ship lights on$4$ the
301:008,17['  ]| water, and the dark places thinly sprinkled with lights.
301:008,18['  ]| It was not like$4$ a town, it was like$4$ a whole country with
301:008,19['  ]| towns and bays and darknesses.  And all lying mysteriously
301:008,20['  ]| within the Australian underdark, that$6#2$ peculiar lost, weary
301:008,21['  ]| aloofness of Australia.  There was the vast town of
301:008,22['  ]| Sydney.  And it did not seem to$9$ be real, it seemed to$9$ be
301:008,23['  ]| sprinkled on$4$ the surface of a darkness into which$6#1$ it never
301:008,24['  ]| penetrated.
301:008,25['  ]| Somers sighed and shivered and went down to$4$ the house.
301:008,26['  ]| It was chilly.  
301:008,26@a   | Why had he come?  Why, oh why?  What
301:008,27@a   | was he looking for$4$?  
301:008,27['  ]| Reflecting for$4$ a moment, he imagined
301:008,28['  ]| he knew what he had come for$4$.  But he wished he had
301:008,29['  ]| not come to$4$ Australia, for$4$ all that$6#2$.
301:008,30['  ]| He was a man with an income of four hundred a year,
301:008,31['  ]| and a writer of poems and essays.  In$4$ Europe, he had
301:008,32['  ]| made up$5$ his mind that$3$ everything was done for$5$, played
301:008,33['  ]| out, finished, and he must go to$4$ a new country.  The
301:008,34['  ]| newest country:  young Australia!  Now he had tried
301:008,35['  ]| Western*Australia, and had looked at Adelaide and Melbourne.
301:008,36['  ]| And the vast, uninhabited land frightened him.
301:008,37['  ]| It seemed so$5#1$ hoary and lost, so$5#1$ unapproachable.  The sky
301:008,38['  ]| was pure, crystal pure and blue, of a lovely pale blue
301:008,39['  ]| colour:  the air was wonderful, new and unbreathed:  and
301:008,40['  ]| there were great distances.  But the bush, the grey,
301:008,41['  ]| charred bush.  It scared him.  As a poet, he felt himself
301:008,42['  ]| entitled to$4$ all kinds of emotions and sensations which$6#1$ an
301:009,01['  ]| ordinary man would have repudiated.  Therefore he let
301:009,02['  ]| himself feel all sorts of things about the bush.  It was so$5#1$
301:009,03['  ]| phantom-like, so$5#1$ ghostly, with its tall pale trees and many
301:009,04['  ]| dead trees, like$4$ corpses, partly charred by$4$ bush fires:  and
301:009,05['  ]| then the foliage so$5#1$ dark, like$4$ grey-green iron.  And then it
301:009,06['  ]| was so$5#1$ deathly still.  Even the few birds seemed to$9$ be
301:009,07['  ]| swamped in$4$ silence.  Waiting, waiting ~~ the bush seemed
301:009,08['  ]| to$9$ be hoarily waiting.  And he could not penetrate into its
301:009,09['  ]| secret.  He could not get at it.  Nobody could get at it.
301:009,10['  ]| What was it waiting for$4$?
301:009,11['  ]| And then one night at the time of the full moon he
301:009,12['  ]| walked alone into the bush.  A huge electric moon, huge,
301:009,13['  ]| and the tree-trunks like$4$ naked pale aborigines among the
301:009,14['  ]| dark-soaked foliage, in$4$ the moonlight.  And not a sign of
301:009,15['  ]| life ~~ not a vestige.
301:009,16['  ]| Yet something.  Something big and aware and hidden!
301:009,17['  ]| He walked on$5$, had walked a mile or so$5#2$ into the bush, and
301:009,18['  ]| had just come to$4$ a clump of tall, nude, dead trees, shining
301:009,19['  ]| almost phosphorescent with the moon, when the terror of
301:009,20['  ]| the bush overcame him.  He had looked so$5#1$ long at the
301:009,21['  ]| vivid moon, without thinking.  And now, there was something
301:009,22['  ]| among the trees, and his hair began to$9$ stir with terror,
301:009,23['  ]| on$4$ his head.  There was a presence.  He looked at the
301:009,24['  ]| weird, white, dead trees, and into the hollow distances of
301:009,25['  ]| the bush.  Nothing!  Nothing at all.  He turned to$9$ go
301:009,26['  ]| home.  And then immediately the hair on$4$ his scalp stirred
301:009,27['  ]| and went icy cold with terror.  What of?  He knew quite
301:009,28['  ]| well it was nothing.  He knew quite well.  But with his
301:009,29['  ]| spine cold like$4$ ice, and the roots of his hair seeming to$9$
301:009,30['  ]| freeze, he walked on$5$ home, walked firmly and without
301:009,31['  ]| haste.  For$3$ he told himself he refused to$9$ be afraid, though
301:009,32['  ]| he admitted the icy sensation of terror.  But then to$9$
301:009,33['  ]| experience terror is not the same thing as to$9$ admit fear
301:009,34['  ]| into the conscious soul.  Therefore he refused to$9$ be afraid.
301:009,35['  ]| But the horrid thing in$4$ the bush!  He schemed as to$4$
301:009,36['  ]| what it would be.  It must be the spirit of the place.
301:009,37['  ]| Something fully evoked to-night, perhaps provoked, by$4$
301:009,38['  ]| that$6#2$ unnatural West-Australian moon.  Provoked by$4$ the
301:009,39['  ]| moon, the roused spirit of the bush.  He felt it was watching,
301:009,40['  ]| and waiting.  Following with certainty, just behind
301:009,41['  ]| his back.  It might have reached a long black arm and
301:009,42['  ]| gripped him.  But no$7$, it wanted to$9$ wait.  It was not tired
301:010,01['  ]| of watching its victim.  An alien people ~~ a victim.  It
301:010,02['  ]| was biding its time with a terrible ageless watchfulness,
301:010,03['  ]| waiting for$4$ a far-off end, watching the myriad intruding
301:010,04['  ]| white men.
301:010,05['  ]| This was how Richard*Lovat*Somers figured it out to$4$
301:010,06['  ]| himself, when he got back into safety in$4$ the scattered
301:010,07['  ]| township in$4$ the clearing on$4$ the hill-crest, and could see far
301:010,08['  ]| off the fume of Perth and Freemantle on$4$ the sea-shore, and
301:010,09['  ]| the tiny sparkling of a farther-off lighthouse on$4$ an island.
301:010,10['  ]| A marvellous night, raving with moonlight ~~ and somebody
301:010,11['  ]| burning off the bush in$4$ a ring of sultry red fire under
301:010,12['  ]| the moon in$4$ the distance, a slow ring of creeping red fire,
301:010,13['  ]| like$4$ some ring of fireflies, upon$4$ the far-off darkness of the
301:010,14['  ]| land's body, under the white blaze of the moon above.
301:010,15['  ]| It is always a question whether there is any sense in$4$
301:010,16['  ]| taking notice of a poet's fine feelings.  The poet himself
301:010,17['  ]| has misgivings about them.  Yet a man ought to$9$ feel
301:010,18['  ]| something, at night under such a moon.
301:010,19['  ]| Richard*S% had never quite got over that$6#2$ glimpse of
301:010,20['  ]| terror in$4$ the Westralian bush.  Pure foolishness, of course,
301:010,21['  ]| but there is no$2$ telling where a foolishness may nip you.
301:010,22['  ]| And, now that$3$ night had settled over Sydney, and the town
301:010,23['  ]| and harbour were sparkling unevenly below, with reddish-seeming
301:010,24['  ]| sparkles, whilst overhead the marvellous Southern
301:010,25['  ]| Milky*Way was tilting uncomfortably to$4$ the south, instead
301:010,26['  ]| of crossing the zenith; the vast myriads of swarming stars
301:010,27['  ]| that$6#1$ cluster all along the milky*way, in$4$ the Southern sky,
301:010,28['  ]| and the Milky*Way itself leaning heavily to$4$ the south, so$3$
301:010,29['  ]| that$3$ you feel all on$4$ one side if you look at it; the Southern
301:010,30['  ]| sky at night, with that$6#2$ swarming Milky*Way all bushy with
301:010,31['  ]| stars, and yet with black gaps, holes in$4$ the white star-road,
301:010,32['  ]| while misty blotches of star-mist float detached, like$4$
301:010,33['  ]| cloud-vapours, in$4$ the side darkness, away from the road;
301:010,34['  ]| the wonderful Southern night-sky, that$6#1$ makes a man feel
301:010,35['  ]| so$5#1$ lonely, alien:  with Orion standing on$4$ his head in$4$ the
301:010,36['  ]| west, and his sword-belt upside down, and his Dog-star
301:010,37['  ]| prancing in$4$ mid-heaven, high above him; and with the
301:010,38['  ]| Southern*Cross insignificantly mixed in$5$ with the other stars,
301:010,39['  ]| democratically inconspicuous; well then, now that$3$ night
301:010,40['  ]| had settled down over Sydney, and all this was happening
301:010,41['  ]| overhead, for$4$ R%*L%*Somers and a few more people, our
301:010,42['  ]| poet once more felt scared and anxious.  Things seemed so$5#1$
301:011,01['  ]| different.  
301:011,01@a   | Perhaps everything \was\ different from all he had
301:011,02@a   | known.  Perhaps if St*Paul and Hildebrand and Darwin
301:011,03@a   | had lived south of the equator, we might have known the
301:011,04@a   | world all different, quite different.  But it is useless iffing.
301:011,05['  ]| Sufficient that$3$ Somers went indoors into his little bungalow,
301:011,06['  ]| and found his wife setting the table for$4$ supper, with cold
301:011,07['  ]| meat and salad.
301:011,08[B  ]| "The only thing that$6#1$ is really cheap," 
301:011,08['  ]| said Harriet, 
301:011,08[B  ]| "is
301:011,09[B  ]| meat.  That$6#2$ huge piece cost two shillings.   There is nothing
301:011,10[B  ]| to$9$ do but to$9$ become savage and carnivorous ~~ if you can."
301:011,11[A  ]| "The kangaroo and the dingo are the largest fauna in$4$
301:011,12[A  ]| Australia," 
301:011,12['  ]| said Somers.  
301:011,12[A  ]| "And the dingo is probably
301:011,13[A  ]| introduced."
301:011,14[B  ]| "But it is very good meat," 
301:011,14['  ]| said Harriet.
301:011,15[A  ]| "I know that$6#2$," 
301:011,15['  ]| said he.
301:011,16['  ]| The hedge between number fifty-one and number fifty
301:011,17['  ]| was a rather weary hedge with a lot of dead branches in$4$
301:011,18['  ]| it, on$4$ the Somers' side.  Yet it grew thickly, with its dark
301:011,19['  ]| green, slightly glossy leaves.  And it had little pinky-green
301:011,20['  ]| flowers just coming out:  sort of pink pea-flowers.  Harriet
301:011,21['  ]| went nosing round for$4$ flowers.  Their garden was just
301:011,22['  ]| trodden grass with the remains of some bushes and a
301:011,23['  ]| pumpkin vine.  So$3$ she went picking sprigs from the intervening
301:011,24['  ]| hedge, trying to$9$ smell a bit of scent in$4$ them, but
301:011,25['  ]| failing.  At one place the hedge was really thin, and so$3$ of
301:011,26['  ]| course she stood to$9$ look through into the next patch.
301:011,27[B  ]| "Oh, but these dahlias are really marvellous.  You
301:011,28[B  ]| \must\ come and look," 
301:011,28['  ]| she sang out to$4$ Somers.
301:011,29[A  ]| "Yes, I know, I have seen them," 
301:011,29['  ]| he replied rather crossly,
301:011,30['  ]| knowing that$3$ the neighbours would hear her.  Harriet was
301:011,31['  ]| so$5#1$ blithely unconscious of people on$4$ the other side of
301:011,32['  ]| hedges.  As far as she was concerned, they ought not to$9$ be
301:011,33['  ]| there:  even if they were in$4$ their own garden.
301:011,34[B  ]| "You must come and look, though.  Lovely!  Real
301:011,35[B  ]| plum-colour, and the loveliest velvet.  You must come."
301:011,36['  ]| He left off sweeping the little yard, which$6#1$ was the job
301:011,37['  ]| he had set himself for$4$ the moment, and walked across the
301:011,38['  ]| brown grass to$4$ where Harriet stood peeping through the
301:011,39['  ]| rift in$4$ the dead hedge, her head tied in$4$ a yellow, red-spotted
301:011,40['  ]| duster.  And of course, as Somers was peeping beside her,
301:011,41['  ]| the neighbour who$6#1$ belonged to$4$ the garden must come backing
301:011,42['  ]| out of the shed and shoving a motor-cycle down the
301:012,01['  ]| path, smoking a short little pipe meanwhile.  It was the
301:012,02['  ]| man in$4$ blue overalls, the one named Jack.  Somers knew
301:012,03['  ]| him at once, though there were now no$2$ blue overalls.  And
301:012,04['  ]| the man was staring hard at the dead place in$4$ the hedge,
301:012,05['  ]| where the faces of Harriet and Richard were seen peeping.
301:012,06['  ]| Somers then behaved as usual on$4$ such occasions, just went
301:012,07['  ]| stony and stared unseeing in$4$ another direction; as if quite
301:012,08['  ]| unaware that$3$ the dahlias had an owner with a motor-cycle:
301:012,09['  ]| any other owner than God, indeed.  Harriet nodded a
301:012,10['  ]| confused and rather distant 
301:012,10[B  ]| "Good morning."  
301:012,10['  ]| The man
301:012,11['  ]| just touched his cap, very cursory, and nodded, and said
301:012,12[C  ]| good morning 
301:012,12['  ]| across his pipe, with his teeth clenched, and
301:012,13['  ]| strode round the house with his machine.
301:012,14[A  ]| "Why must you go yelling for$4$ other people to$9$ hear
301:012,15[A  ]| you?"  
301:012,15['  ]| said Somers to$4$ Harriet.
301:012,16[B  ]| "Why should not they hear me!"  
301:012,16['  ]| retorted Harriet.
301:012,17['  ]| The day was Saturday.  Early in$4$ the afternoon Harriet
301:012,18['  ]| went to$4$ the little front gate because she heard a band:  or
301:012,19['  ]| the rudiments of a band.  Nothing would have kept her
301:012,20['  ]| indoors when she heard a trumpet, not six wild Somerses.
301:012,21['  ]| It was some very spanking Boy*Scouts marching out.
301:012,22['  ]| There were only six of them, but the road was hardly big
301:012,23['  ]| enough to$9$ hold them.  Harriet leaned on$4$ the gate in$4$
301:012,24['  ]| admiration of their dashing broad hats and thick calves.
301:012,25['  ]| As she stood there she heard a voice:
301:012,26[D  ]| "Would you care for$4$ a few dahlias?  I believe you like$1$
301:012,27[D  ]| them."
301:012,28['  ]| She stared and turned.  Bold as she was in$4$ private,
301:012,29['  ]| when anybody addressed her in$4$ the open, any stranger,
301:012,30['  ]| she wanted to$9$ bolt.  But it was the fifty neighbour, the
301:012,31['  ]| female neighbour, a very good-looking young woman, with
301:012,32['  ]| loose brown hair and brown eyes and a warm complexion.
301:012,33['  ]| The brown eyes were now alert with question and with
301:012,34['  ]| offering, and very ready to$9$ be huffy, or even nasty, if the
301:012,35['  ]| offering were refused.  Harriet was too well-bred.
301:012,36[B  ]| "Oh, thank you very much," 
301:012,36['  ]| she said, 
301:012,36[B  ]| "but is not it a
301:012,37[B  ]| pity to$9$ cut them."
301:012,38[D  ]| "Oh, not at all.  My husband will$1$ cut you some with
301:012,39[D  ]| pleasure.  Jack! ~~ Jack!"  
301:012,39['  ]| she called.
301:012,40[C  ]| "Hello!"  
301:012,40['  ]| came the masculine voice.
301:012,41[D  ]| "Will$1$ you cut a few dahlias for$4$ Mrs ~~ er ~~ I do not know
301:012,42[D  ]| your name" ~~ 
301:012,42['  ]| she flashed a soft, warm, winning look at
301:013,01['  ]| Harriet, and Harriet flushed slightly.  
301:013,01[D  ]| "For$4$ the people
301:013,02[D  ]| next door," 
301:013,02['  ]| concluded the offerer.
301:013,03[B  ]| "Somers ~~ S-O-M-E-R-S,"  
301:013,03['  ]| Harriet spelled it out.
301:013,04[D  ]| "Oh, Somers!"  
301:013,04['  ]| exclaimed the neighbour woman, with
301:013,05['  ]| a gawky little jerk, like$4$ a schoolgirl.  
301:013,05[D  ]| "Mr and Mrs*Somers,"
301:013,06['  ]| she reiterated, with a little laugh.
301:013,07[B  ]| "That$6#2$ is it," 
301:013,07['  ]| said Harriet.
301:013,08[D  ]| "I saw you come yesterday, and I wondered ~~ we had not
301:013,09[D  ]| heard the name of who$6#1$ was coming."  
301:013,09['  ]| She was still rather
301:013,10['  ]| gawky and school-girlish in$4$ her manner, half shy, half
301:013,11['  ]| brusque.
301:013,12[B  ]| "No$7$, I suppose not," 
301:013,12['  ]| said Harriet, wondering why the
301:013,13['  ]| girl did not tell her own name now.
301:013,14[B  ]| "That$6#2$ is your husband who$6#1$ has the motor-bike?"  
301:013,14['  ]| said
301:013,15['  ]| Harriet.
301:013,16[D  ]| "Yes, that$6#2$ is right.  That$6#2$ is him.  That$6#2$ is my husband,
301:013,17[D  ]| Jack, Mr*Callcott."
301:013,18[B  ]| "Mr*Callcott, oh!"  
301:013,18['  ]| said Harriet, as if she were mentally
301:013,19['  ]| abstracted trying to$9$ spell the word.
301:013,20['  ]| Somers, in$4$ the little passage inside his house, heard all
301:013,21['  ]| this with inward curses.  
301:013,21[A  ]| "That$6#2$ has done it!"  
301:013,21['  ]| he groaned
301:013,22['  ]| to$4$ himself.  He had got neighbours now.
301:013,23['  ]| And sure enough, in$4$ a few minutes came Harriet's gushing
301:013,24['  ]| cries of joy and admiration:  
301:013,24[B  ]| "Oh, how lovely!  how
301:013,25[B  ]| marvellous!  but can they really be dahlias?  I have never
301:013,26[B  ]| seen such dahlias!  they are really too beautiful!  But you
301:013,27[B  ]| should not give them me, you should not."
301:013,28[D  ]| "Why not?"  
301:013,28['  ]| cried Mrs*Callcott in$4$ delight.
301:013,29[B  ]| "So$5#1$ many.  And is not it a pity to$9$ cut them?"  
301:013,29['  ]| this,
301:013,30['  ]| rather wistfully, to$4$ the masculine silence of Jack.
301:013,31[C  ]| "Oh no$7$, they want cutting as they come, or the blooms
301:013,32[C  ]| gets smaller," 
301:013,32['  ]| said Jack, masculine and benevolent.
301:013,33[B  ]| "And scent! ~~ they have scent!"  
301:013,33['  ]| cried Harriet, sniffing
301:013,34['  ]| at her velvety bouquet.
301:013,35[D  ]| "They have a little ~~ not much though.  Flowers do not
301:013,36[D  ]| have much scent in$4$ Australia," 
301:013,36['  ]| deprecated Mrs*Callcott.
301:013,37[B  ]| "Oh, I must show them to$4$ my husband."  
301:013,37['  ]| cried Harriet,
301:013,38['  ]| half starting from the fence.  Then she lifted up$5$ her
301:013,39['  ]| voice:
301:013,40[B  ]| "Lovat!"  
301:013,40['  ]| she called.  
301:013,40[B  ]| "Lovat!  You \must\ come.
301:013,41[B  ]| Come here!  Come and see!  Lovat!"
301:013,42[A  ]| "What?"
301:014,01[B  ]| "Come.  Come and see."
301:014,02['  ]| This dragged the bear out of his den:  Mr*Somers, twisting
301:014,03['  ]| sour smiles of graciousness on$4$ his pale, bearded face,
301:014,04['  ]| crossed the verandah and advanced towards the division
301:014,05['  ]| fence, on$4$ the other side of which$6#1$ stood his Australian neighbour
301:014,06['  ]| in$4$ shirt-sleeves, with a comely young wife very near
301:014,07['  ]| to$4$ him, whilst on$4$ this side stood Harriet with a bunch of
301:014,08['  ]| pink and purple ragged dahlias, and an expression of joyous
301:014,09['  ]| friendliness, which$6#1$ Somers knew to$9$ be false, upon$4$ her face.
301:014,10[B  ]| "Look what Mrs*Callcott has given me!  Are not they
301:014,11[B  ]| exquisite?"  
301:014,11['  ]| cried Harriet, rather exaggerated.
301:014,12[A  ]| "Awfully nice," 
301:014,12['  ]| said Somers, bowing slightly to$4$ Mrs*Callcott,
301:014,13['  ]| who$6#1$ looked uneasy, and to$4$ Mr*Callcott ~~ otherwise
301:014,14['  ]| Jack.
301:014,15[C  ]| "Got here all right in$4$ the hansom, then?"  
301:014,15['  ]| said Jack.
301:014,16['  ]| Somers laughed ~~ and he could be charming when he
301:014,17['  ]| laughed ~~ as he met the other man's eye.
301:014,18[A  ]| "My wrist got tired, propping up$5$ the luggage all the
301:014,19[A  ]| way," 
301:014,19['  ]| he replied.
301:014,20[C  ]| "Ay, there is not much waste ground in$4$ a hansom.  You
301:014,21[C  ]| can not run up$5$ a spare bed in$4$ the parlour, so$5#2$ to$9$ speak.  But
301:014,22[C  ]| it saved you five bob."
301:014,23[A  ]| "Oh, at least ten, between me and a Sydney taxi*driver."
301:014,24[A  ]|
301:014,25[C  ]| "Yes, they will$1$ do you down if they can ~~ that$6#2$ is, if you
301:014,26[C  ]| let them.  I have a motor-bike, so$3$ I can afford to$9$ let them get
301:014,27[C  ]| the wind up$5$.  Do not depend on$4$ them, you see.  That$6#2$ is the 
301:014,28[C  ]| point."
301:014,29[A  ]| "It is, I am afraid."
301:014,30['  ]| The two men looked at each other curiously.  And Mrs*Callcott
301:014,31['  ]| looked at Somers with bright, brown, alert eyes,
301:014,32['  ]| like$4$ a bird that$6#1$ has suddenly caught sight of something.
301:014,33['  ]| A new sort of bird to$4$ her was this little man with a beard.
301:014,34@d   | He was not handsome and impressive like$4$ his wife.  No$7$, he
301:014,35@d   | was odd.  But then he had a touch of something, the 
301:014,36@d   | magic of the old world that$6#1$ she had never seen, the old
301:014,37@d   | culture, the old glamour.  
301:014,37['  ]| She thought that$3$, 
301:014,37@d   | because he
301:014,38@d   | had a beard and wore a little green house-jacket, he was
301:014,39@d   | probably a socialist.
301:014,40['  ]| The Somers now had neighbours:  somewhat to$4$ the
301:014,41['  ]| chagrin of Richard*Lovat.  He had come to$4$ this new
301:014,42['  ]| country, the youngest country on$4$ the globe, to$9$ start a new
301:015,01['  ]| life and flutter with a new hope.  And he started with a
301:015,02['  ]| rabid desire not to$9$ see anything and not to$9$ speak one single
301:015,03['  ]| word to$4$ any single body ~~ except Harriet, whom he snapped
301:015,04['  ]| at hard enough.  To$9$ be sure, the mornings sometimes won
301:015,05['  ]| him over.  They were so$5#1$ blue and pure:  the blue harbour
301:015,06['  ]| like$4$ a lake among the land, so$5#1$ pale blue and heavenly, with
301:015,07['  ]| its hidden and half-hidden lobes intruding among the low,
301:015,08['  ]| dark-brown cliffs, and among the dark-looking tree-covered
301:015,09['  ]| shores, and up$5$ to$4$ the bright red suburbs.  But the
301:015,10['  ]| land, the ever-dark bush that$6#1$ was allowed to$9$ come to$4$ the
301:015,11['  ]| shores of the harbour!  It was strange that$3$, with the finest
301:015,12['  ]| of new air dimming to$4$ a lovely pale blue in$4$ the distance,
301:015,13['  ]| and with the loveliest stretches of pale blue water, the
301:015,14['  ]| tree-covered land should be so$5#1$ gloomy and lightless.  It is
301:015,15['  ]| the sun-refusing leaves of the gum-trees that$6#1$ are like$4$ dark,
301:015,16['  ]| hardened flakes of rubber.
301:015,17['  ]| He was not happy, there was no$2$ pretending he was.
301:015,18['  ]| He longed for$4$ Europe with hungry longing:  Florence, with
301:015,19['  ]| Giotto's pale tower:  or the Pincio at Rome:  or the woods
301:015,20['  ]| in$4$ Berkshire ~~ heavens, the English spring with primroses
301:015,21['  ]| under the bare hazel bushes, and thatched cottages among
301:015,22['  ]| plum blossom.  He felt he would have give anything on$4$
301:015,23['  ]| earth to$9$ be in$4$ England.  It was May ~~ end of May ~~ almost
301:015,24['  ]| bluebell time, and the green leaves coming out on$4$ the
301:015,25['  ]| hedges.  Or the tall corn under the olives in$4$ Sicily.  Or
301:015,26['  ]| London*Bridge, with all the traffic on$4$ the river.  Or
301:015,27['  ]| Bavaria with gentian and yellow globe*flowers, and the
301:015,28['  ]| Alps still icy.  Oh God, to$9$ be in$4$ Europe, lovely, lovely
301:015,29['  ]| Europe that$6#1$ he had hated so$5#1$ thoroughly and abused so$5#1$
301:015,30['  ]| vehemently, saying 
301:015,30@a   | it was moribund and stale and finished.
301:015,31@a   | The fool was himself.  He had got out of temper, and so$3$
301:015,32@a   | had called Europe moribund:  
301:015,32['  ]| assuming that$3$ he himself,
301:015,33['  ]| of course, was not moribund, but sprightly and chirpy and
301:015,34['  ]| too vital, as the Americans would say, for$4$ Europe.  Well,
301:015,35['  ]| if a man wants to$9$ make a fool of himself, it is as well to$9$
301:015,36['  ]| let him.
301:015,37['  ]| Somers wandered disconsolate through the streets of
301:015,38['  ]| Sydney, forced to$9$ admit that$3$ there were fine streets, like$4$
301:015,39['  ]| Birmingham for$4$ example; that$3$ the parks and the Botanical*Gardens
301:015,40['  ]| were handsome and well-kept; that$3$ the harbour,
301:015,41['  ]| with all the two-decker brown ferry-boats sliding continuously
301:015,42['  ]| from the Circular*Quay, was an extraordinary
301:016,01['  ]| place.  But oh, what did he care about it all!  In$4$ Martin*Place
301:016,02['  ]| he longed for$4$ Westminster, in$4$ Sussex*Street he almost
301:016,03['  ]| wept for$4$ Covent*Garden and St*Martin's*Lane, at the
301:016,04['  ]| Circular*Quay he pined for$4$ London*Bridge.  It was all
301:016,05['  ]| London without being London.  Without any of the lovely
301:016,06['  ]| old glamour that$6#1$ invests London.  This London of the
301:016,07['  ]| Southern hemisphere was all, as it were, made in$4$ five
301:016,08['  ]| minutes, a substitute for$4$ the real thing.  Just a substitute
301:016,09['  ]| ~~ as margarine is a substitute for$4$ butter.  And he went
301:016,10['  ]| home to$4$ the little bungalow bitterer than ever, pining for$4$
301:016,11['  ]| England.
301:016,12['  ]| But if he hated the town so$5#1$ much, why did he stay?
301:016,13['  ]| Oh, he had a fanciful notion that$3$ if he was really to$9$ get to$9$
301:016,14['  ]| know anything at all about a country, he must live for$4$ a
301:016,15['  ]| time in$4$ the principal city.  So$3$ he had condemned himself
301:016,16['  ]| to$4$ three months at least.  He told himself to$9$ comfort
301:016,17['  ]| himself that$3$ 
301:016,17@a   | at the end of three months he would take the
301:016,18@a   | steamer across the Pacific, homewards, towards Europe.
301:016,19['  ]| He felt a long navel string fastening him to$4$ Europe, and he
301:016,20['  ]| wanted to$9$ go back, to$9$ go home.  
301:016,20@a   | He would stay three
301:016,21@a   | months.  Three months' penalty for$4$ having forsworn
301:016,22@a   | Europe.  Three months in$4$ which$6#1$ to$9$ get used to$4$ this Land
301:016,23@a   | of the Southern*Cross.  Cross indeed!  A new crucifixion.
301:016,24@a   | And then away, homewards!
301:016,25['  ]| The only time he felt at all happy was when he had
301:016,26['  ]| reassured himself that$3$ by$4$ August, by$4$ August he would be
301:016,27['  ]| taking his luggage on$5$ to$4$ a steamer.  That$6#2$ soothed him.
301:016,28['  ]| He understood now that$3$ the Romans had preferred
301:016,29['  ]| death to$4$ exile.  He could sympathise now with Ovid on$4$
301:016,30['  ]| the Danube, hungering for$4$ Rome and blind to$4$ the land
301:016,31['  ]| around him, blind to$4$ the savages.  So$3$ Somers felt blind to$4$
301:016,32['  ]| Australia, and blind to$4$ the uncouth Australians.  To$4$ him
301:016,33['  ]| they were barbarians.  The most loutish Neapolitan loafer
301:016,34['  ]| was nearer to$4$ him in$4$ pulse than these British Australians
301:016,35['  ]| with their aggressive familiarity.  He surveyed them from
301:016,36['  ]| an immense distance, with a kind of horror.
301:016,37['  ]| Of course he was bound to$9$ admit that$3$ 
301:016,37@a   | they ran their
301:016,38@a   | city very well, as far as he could see.  Everything was very
301:016,39@a   | easy, and there was no$2$ fuss.  Amazing how little fuss and
301:016,40@a   | bother there was ~~ on$4$ the whole.  Nobody seemed to$9$
301:016,41@a   | bother, there seemed to$9$ be no$2$ policemen and no$2$ authority,
301:016,42@a   | the whole thing went by$4$ itself, loose and easy, without any
301:017,01@a   | bossing.  No$2$ real authority ~~ no$2$ superior classes ~~ hardly
301:017,02@a   | even any boss.  And everything rolling along as easily as
301:017,03@a   | a full river, to$4$ all appearances.
301:017,04@a   | That$6#2$ is where it was.  Like$4$ a full river of life, made up$5$ of
301:017,05@a   | drops of water all alike.  Europe is really established upon$4$
301:017,06@a   | the aristocratic principle.  Remove the sense of class
301:017,07@a   | distinction, or higher and lower, and you have anarchy in$4$
301:017,08@a   | Europe.  Only nihilists aim at the removal of all class
301:017,09@a   | distinction, in$4$ Europe.
301:017,10@a   | But in$4$ Australia, 
301:017,10['  ]| it seemed to$4$ Somers, 
301:017,10@a   | the distinction
301:017,11@a   | was already gone.  There was really no$2$ class distinction.
301:017,12@a   | There was a difference of money and of "smartness."
301:017,13@a   | But nobody felt \better\ than anybody else, or higher; only
301:017,14@a   | better-off.  And there is all the difference in$4$ the world
301:017,15@a   | between feeling \better\ than your fellow man, and merely
301:017,16@a   | feeling \better-off\.
301:017,17['  ]| Now Somers was English by$4$ blood and education, and
301:017,18['  ]| though he had no$2$ antecedents whatsoever, yet he felt
301:017,19['  ]| himself to$9$ be one of the \responsible\ members of society, as
301:017,20['  ]| contrasted with the innumerable \irresponsible\ members.
301:017,21['  ]| In$4$ old, cultured, ethical England this distinction is radical
301:017,22['  ]| between the responsible members of society and the irresponsible.
301:017,23['  ]| It is even a categorical distinction.  It is a
301:017,24['  ]| caste distinction, a distinction in$4$ the very being.  It
301:017,25['  ]| is the distinction between the proletariat and the ruling
301:017,26['  ]| classes.
301:017,27['  ]| But in$4$ Australia nobody is supposed to$9$ rule, and nobody
301:017,28['  ]| does rule, so$3$ the distinction falls to$4$ the ground.  The
301:017,29['  ]| proletariat appoints men to$9$ administer the law, not to$9$ rule.
301:017,30['  ]| These ministers are not really responsible, any more than
301:017,31['  ]| the housemaid is responsible.  The proletariat is all the
301:017,32['  ]| time responsible, the only source of authority.  The will$0$
301:017,33['  ]| of the people.  The ministers are merest instruments.
301:017,34['  ]| Somers for$4$ the first time felt himself immersed in$4$ real
301:017,35['  ]| democracy ~~ in$4$ spite of all disparity in$4$ wealth.  
301:017,35@a   | The
301:017,36@a   | instinct of the place was absolutely and flatly democratic,
301:017,37@a   | \9a`*terre\ democratic.  Demos was here his own master,
301:017,38@a   | undisputed, and therefore quite calm about it.  No$2$ need
301:017,39@a   | to$9$ get the wind up$5$ at all over it; it was a granted condition
301:017,40@a   | of Australia, that$3$ Demos was his own master.
301:017,41['  ]| And this was what Richard*Lovat*Somers could not
301:017,42['  ]| stand.  You may be the most liberal Liberal Englishman,
301:018,01['  ]| and yet you cannot fail to$9$ see the categorical difference
301:018,02['  ]| between the responsible and the irresponsible classes.  You
301:018,03['  ]| cannot fail to$9$ admit the necessity for$4$ \rule\.  Either you
301:018,04['  ]| admit yourself an anarchist, or you admit the necessity
301:018,05['  ]| for$4$ \rule\ ~~ in$4$ England.  The working classes in$4$ England feel
301:018,06['  ]| just the same about it as do the upper classes.  Any working
301:018,07['  ]| man who$6#1$ sincerely feels himself a responsible member
301:018,08['  ]| of society feels it his duty to$9$ exercise authority in$4$ some
301:018,09['  ]| way or other.  And the irresponsible working man likes to$9$
301:018,10['  ]| feel there is a strong boss at the head, if only so$3$ that$3$ he
301:018,11['  ]| can grumble at him satisfactorily.  Europe is established
301:018,12['  ]| on$4$ the instinct of authority:  
301:018,12@x   | "Thou shalt."  
301:018,12['  ]| The only
301:018,13['  ]| alternative is anarchy.
301:018,14['  ]| Somers was a true Englishman, with an Englishman's
301:018,15['  ]| hatred of anarchy, and an Englishman's instinct for$4$ authority.
301:018,16['  ]| So$3$ he felt himself at a discount in$4$ Australia.  
301:018,16@a   | In$4$
301:018,17@a   | Australia authority was a dead letter.  There was no$2$ giving
301:018,18@a   | of orders here; or, if orders were given, they would not be
301:018,19@a   | received as such.  A man in$4$ one position might make a
301:018,20@a   | suggestion to$4$ a man in$4$ another position, and this latter
301:018,21@a   | might or might not accept the suggestion, according to$4$ his
301:018,22@a   | disposition.  Australia was not yet in$4$ a state of anarchy.
301:018,23@a   | England had as yet at least nominal authority.  But let
301:018,24@a   | the authority be removed, and then!  For$3$ it is notorious,
301:018,25@a   | when it comes to$4$ constitutions, how much there is in$4$ a
301:018,26@a   | name.
301:018,27@a   | Was all that$6#1$ stood between Australia and anarchy just
301:018,28@a   | a name? ~~ the name of England, Britain, Empire, Viceroy,
301:018,29@a   | or Governor*General, or Governor?  The shadow of the
301:018,30@a   | old sceptre, the mere sounding of a name?  Was it just
301:018,31@a   | the hollow word "Authority," sounding across seven
301:018,32@a   | thousand miles of sea, that$6#1$ kept Australia from Anarchy?
301:018,33@a   | Australia ~~ Authority ~~ Anarchy:  a multiplication of the
301:018,34@a   | alpha.
301:018,35['  ]| So$3$ Richard*Lovat cogitated as he roamed about uneasily.
301:018,36['  ]| Not that$3$ he knew all about it.  Nobody knows all about
301:018,37['  ]| it.  And those that$6#1$ fancy they know \almost\ all about it
301:018,38['  ]| are usually most wrong.  A man must have \some\ ideas
301:018,39['  ]| about the things he is up$5$ against, otherwise he is a simple
301:018,40['  ]| wash-out.
301:018,41['  ]| But Richard was wrong.  Given a good temper and a
301:018,42['  ]| genuinely tolerant nature ~~ both of which$6#1$ the Australians
301:019,01['  ]| seem to$9$ have in$4$ a high degree ~~ you can get on$5$ for$4$ quite a
301:019,02['  ]| long time without "rule."  For$4$ quite a long time the
301:019,03['  ]| thing just goes by$4$ itself.
301:019,04['  ]| Is it merely running down, however, like$4$ a machine
301:019,05['  ]| running on$5$ but gradually running down?
301:019,06['  ]| Ah, questions!  
302:020,00@@@@@|
302:020,01['  ]| The Somers-Callcott acquaintance did not progress very
302:020,02['  ]| rapidly, after the affair of the dahlias.  Mrs*Callcott asked
302:020,03['  ]| Mrs*Somers across to$9$ look at their cottage, and Mrs*Somers
302:020,04['  ]| went.  Then Mrs*Somers asked Mrs*Callcott back again.
302:020,05['  ]| But both times Mr*Somers managed to$9$ be out of the way,
302:020,06['  ]| and managed to$9$ cast an invisible frost over the \9rencontre\.
302:020,07['  ]| He was not going to$9$ be dragged in$5$, no$7$, he was not.  He
302:020,08['  ]| very much wanted to$9$ borrow a pair of pincers and a
302:020,09['  ]| chopper for$4$ an hour, to$9$ pull out a few nails, and to$9$ split
302:020,10['  ]| his little chunks of kindling that$6#1$ the dealer had sent too
302:020,11['  ]| thick.  And the Callcotts were very ready to$9$ lend anything,
302:020,12['  ]| if they were only asked for$4$ it.  But no$7$, Richard*Lovat
302:020,13['  ]| was not going to$9$ ask.  Neither would he buy a
302:020,14['  ]| chopper, because the travelling expenses had reduced him
302:020,15['  ]| to$4$ very low water.  He preferred to$9$ wrestle with the chunks
302:020,16['  ]| of jarrah every morning.
302:020,17['  ]| Mrs*Somers and Mrs*Callcott continued, however, to$9$
302:020,18['  ]| have a few friendly words across the fence.  Harriet learned
302:020,19['  ]| that$3$ Jack was foreman in$4$ a motor-works place, that$3$ he
302:020,20['  ]| had been wounded in$4$ the jaw in$4$ the war, that$3$ the surgeons
302:020,21['  ]| had not been able to$9$ extract the bullet, because there was
302:020,22['  ]| nothing for$4$ it to$9$ "back up$5$ against" ~~ and so$3$ he had
302:020,23['  ]| carried the chunk of lead in$4$ his gizzard for$4$ ten months, till
302:020,24['  ]| suddenly it had rolled into his throat and he had coughed
302:020,25['  ]| it out.  The jeweller had wanted Mrs*Callcott to$9$ have it
302:020,26['  ]| mounted in$4$ a brooch or a hatpin.  It was a round ball of
302:020,27['  ]| lead, from a shell, as big as a marble, and weighing three
302:020,28['  ]| or four ounces.  Mrs*Callcott had recoiled from this suggestion,
302:020,29['  ]| so$3$ an elegant little stand had been made, like$4$ a
302:020,30['  ]| little lamp-post on$4$ a polished wood base, and the black
302:020,31['  ]| little globe of lead dangled by$4$ a fine chain like$4$ an arch-lamp
302:020,32['  ]| from the top of the toy lamp-post.  It was now a mantel-piece
302:020,33['  ]| ornament.
302:020,34['  ]| All this Harriet related to$4$ the indignant Lovat, though
302:020,35['  ]| she wisely suppressed the fact that$3$ Mrs*Callcott had suggested
302:020,36['  ]| that$3$ 
302:020,36@d   | "pehaps Mr*Somers might like$1$ to$9$ have a
302:020,37@d   | look at it."
302:020,38['  ]| Lovat was growing more used to$4$ Australia ~~ or to$4$ the
302:021,01['  ]| "cottage" in$4$ Murdoch*Road, and the view of the harbour
302:021,02['  ]| from the tub-top of his summer-house.  
302:021,02@a   | You could not call
302:021,03@a   | that$6#2$ all "Australia" ~~ but then one man can not bit off a
302:021,04@a   | continent in$4$ a mouthful, and you must start to$9$ nibble
302:021,05@a   | somewhere.  
302:021,05['  ]| He and Harriet took numerous trips in$4$ the
302:021,06['  ]| ferry*steamers to$4$ the many nooks and corners of the
302:021,07['  ]| harbour.  One day their ferry*steamer bumped into a
302:021,08['  ]| collier that$6#1$ was heading for$4$ the harbour outlet ~~ or rather,
302:021,09['  ]| their ferry boat headed across the nose of the collier, so$3$
302:021,10['  ]| the collier bumped into them and had his nose put out of
302:021,11['  ]| joint.  There was a considerable amount of yelling, but
302:021,12['  ]| the ferry boat slid flatly away towards Manly, and Harriet's
302:021,13['  ]| excitement subsided.
302:021,14['  ]| It was Sunday, and a lovely sunny day of Australian
302:021,15['  ]| winter.  Manly is the bathing suburb of Sydney ~~ one of 
302:021,16['  ]| them.  You pass quite close to$4$ the wide harbour gate,
302:021,17['  ]| The*Heads, on$4$ the ferry*steamer.  Then you land on$4$ the
302:021,18['  ]| wharf, and walk up$4$ the street, like$4$ a bit of Margate with
302:021,19['  ]| sea-side shops and restaurants, till you come out on$4$ a
302:021,20['  ]| promenade at the end, and there is the wide Pacific rolling
302:021,21['  ]| in$5$ on$4$ the yellow sand:  the wide fierce sea, that$6#1$ makes all
302:021,22['  ]| the built-over land dwindle into non-existence.  At least
302:021,23['  ]| there was a heavy swell on$5$, so$3$ the Pacific belied its name
302:021,24['  ]| and crushed the earth with its rollers.  Perhaps the heavy,
302:021,25['  ]| earth-despising swell is part of its pacific nature.
302:021,26['  ]| Harriet, of course, was enraptured, and declared 
302:021,26@b   | she
302:021,27@b   | could not be happy till she had lived beside the Pacific.
302:021,28['  ]| They bought food and ate it by$4$ the sea.  Then Harriet
302:021,29['  ]| was chilled, so$3$ they went to$4$ a restaurant for$4$ a cup of soup.
302:021,30['  ]| When they were again in$4$ the street Harriet realised that$3$ she
302:021,31['  ]| had not got her yellow scarf:  her big, silky yellow scarf that$6#1$
302:021,32['  ]| was so$5#1$ warm and lovely.  She declared 
302:021,32@b   | she had left it in$4$
302:021,33@b   | the eating-house, 
302:021,33['  ]| and they went back at once for$4$ it.  The
302:021,34['  ]| girls in$4$ the eating-house ~~ the waitress ~~ said, in$4$ their
302:021,35['  ]| cheeky Cockney Australian that$3$ they 
302:021,35@x   | "hed not seen it,"
302:021,36['  ]| and that$3$ the 
302:021,36@x   | "next people who$6#1$ kyme arfter must 'ev
302:021,37@x   | tyken it."
302:021,38['  ]| Anyhow, it was gone ~~ and Harriet furious, feeling as if
302:021,39['  ]| there had been a thief in$4$ the night.  In$4$ this unhappy
302:021,40['  ]| state of affairs Somers suggested 
302:021,40@a   | they should sit on$4$ the
302:021,41@a   | tram-car and go somewhere.  
302:021,41['  ]| They sat on$4$ the tram-car
302:021,42['  ]| and ran for$4$ miles along the coast with ragged bush loused
302:022,01['  ]| over with thousands of small promiscuous bungalows, built
302:022,02['  ]| of everything from patchwork of kerosene*tin up$5$ to$4$ fine
302:022,03['  ]| red brick and stucco, like$4$ Margate.  Not far off the Pacific
302:022,04['  ]| boomed.  But fifty yards inland started these bits of
302:022,05['  ]| swamp, and endless promiscuity of "cottages."
302:022,06['  ]| The tram took them five or six miles, to$4$ the terminus.
302:022,07['  ]| This was the end of everywhere, with new "stores" ~~ that$6#2$
302:022,08['  ]| is, fly-blown shops with corrugated iron roofs ~~ and with
302:022,09['  ]| a tram-shelter, and little house-agents' booths plastered
302:022,10['  ]| with signs ~~ and more "cottages"; that$6#2$ is, bungalows of
302:022,11['  ]| corrugated iron or brick ~~ and bits of swamp or "lagoon"
302:022,12['  ]| where the sea had got in$5$ and could not get out.  The happy
302:022,13['  ]| couple had a drink of sticky a*erated waters in$4$ one of the
302:022,14['  ]| "stores," then walked up$4$ a wide sand-road dotted on$4$
302:022,15['  ]| either side with small bungalows, beyond the backs of
302:022,16['  ]| which$6#1$ lay a whole aura of rusty tin cans chucked out over
302:022,17['  ]| the back fence.  They came to$4$ the ridge of sand, and again
302:022,18['  ]| the pure, long-rolling Pacific.
302:022,19[B  ]| "I love the sea," 
302:022,19['  ]| said Harriet.
302:022,20[A  ]| "I wish," 
302:022,20['  ]| said Lovat, 
302:022,20[A  ]| "it would send a wave about
302:022,21[A  ]| fifty feet high round the whole coast of Australia."
302:022,22[B  ]| "You are so$5#1$ bad-tempered," 
302:022,22['  ]| said Harriet.  
302:022,22[B  ]| "Why
302:022,23[B  ]| do not you see the lovely things!"
302:022,24[A  ]| "I do, by$4$ contrast."
302:022,25['  ]| So$3$ they sat on$4$ the sands, and he peeled pears and buried
302:022,26['  ]| the peel in$4$ the yellow sand.  It was winter, and the shore
302:022,27['  ]| was almost deserted.  But the sun was warm as an English
302:022,28['  ]| May.
302:022,29['  ]| Harriet felt 
302:022,29@b   | she absolutely must live by$4$ the sea, 
302:022,29['  ]| so$3$ they
302:022,30['  ]| wandered along a wide, rutted space of deep sand, looking
302:022,31['  ]| at the "cottages" on$4$ either side.  They had impossible
302:022,32['  ]| names.  But in$4$ themselves, many of them were really nice.
302:022,33['  ]| Yet there they stood like$4$ so$5#1$ many forlorn chicken-houses,
302:022,34['  ]| each on$4$ its own oblong patch of land, with a fence between
302:022,35['  ]| it and its neighbour.  There was something indescribably
302:022,36['  ]| weary and dreary about it.  The very ground the houses
302:022,37['  ]| stood on$4$ seemed weary and drabbled, almost asking for$4$
302:022,38['  ]| rusty tin cans.  And so$5#1$ many pleasant little bungalows set
302:022,39['  ]| there in$4$ an improvised road, wide and weary ~~ and then the
302:022,40['  ]| effort had lasped.  The tin shacks were almost a relief.
302:022,41['  ]| They did not call for$4$ geraniums and lobelias, as did the
302:022,42['  ]| pretty Hampstead Garden*Suburb "cottages."  And
302:023,01['  ]| these latter might call, but they called in$4$ vain.  They got
302:023,02['  ]| bits of old paper and tins.
302:023,03['  ]| Yet Harriet absolutely wanted to$9$ live by$4$ the sea, so$3$ they
302:023,04['  ]| stopped before each bungalow that$6#1$ was to$9$ be let furnished.
302:023,05['  ]| The estate agents went in$5$ for$4$ abbreviations.  On$4$ the boards
302:023,06['  ]| at the corner of the fences it said either "4*Sale" or "2*Let."
302:023,07['  ]| Probably there was a colonial intention of jocularity.
302:023,08['  ]| But it was almost enough for$4$ Somers.  He would have
302:023,09['  ]| died rather than have put himself into one of those
302:023,10['  ]| cottages.
302:023,11['  ]| The road ended on$4$ the salt pool where the sea had ebbed
302:023,12['  ]| in$5$.  Across was a state reserve ~~ a bit of aboriginal Australia,
302:023,13['  ]| with gum trees and empty spaces beyond the flat
302:023,14['  ]| salt waters.  Near at hand a man was working away,
302:023,15['  ]| silently loading a boat with beach-sand, upon$4$ the lagoon.
302:023,16['  ]| To$4$ the right the sea was rolling on$4$ the shore, and spurting
302:023,17['  ]| high on$4$ some brown rocks.  Two men in$4$ bathing suits
302:023,18['  ]| were running over the spit of sand from the lagoon to$4$ the
302:023,19['  ]| surf, where two women in$4$ "waders," those rubber
302:023,20['  ]| paddling-drawers into which$6#1$ we bundle our children at the 
302:023,21['  ]| seaside, were paddling along the fringe of the foam.  A
302:023,22['  ]| blond yound man wearing a jacket over his bathing suit
302:023,23['  ]| walked by$5$ with two girls.  He had huge massive legs,
302:023,24['  ]| astonishing.  And near at hand Somers saw another youth
302:023,25['  ]| lying on$4$ the warm sand-hill in$4$ the sun.  He had rolled in$4$
302:023,26['  ]| the dry sand while he was wet, so$3$ he was hardly distinguishable.
302:023,27['  ]| But he lay like$4$ an animal on$4$ his face in$4$ the sun,
302:023,28['  ]| and again Somers wondered at the thick legs.  They seemed
302:023,29['  ]| to$9$ run to$4$ leg, these people.  Three boys, one a lad of
302:023,30['  ]| fifteen or so$5#2$, came out of the warm lagoon in$4$ their bathing
302:023,31['  ]| suits to$9$ roll in$4$ the sand and play.  The big lad crawled on$4$
302:023,32['  ]| all fours and the little one rode on$4$ his back, and pitched off
302:023,33['  ]| into the sand.  They were extraordinarily like$4$ real young
302:023,34['  ]| animals, mindless as opossums, lunging about.
302:023,35['  ]| This was Sunday afternoon.  The sun was warm.  The
302:023,36['  ]| lonely man was just pushing off his boat on$4$ the lagoon.
302:023,37['  ]| It sat deep in$4$ the water, half full of sand.  Somers and
302:023,38['  ]| Harriet lay on$4$ the sand-bank.  
302:023,38@a   | Strange it was.  And it
302:023,39@a   | \had\ a sort of fascination.  Freedom!  That$6#2$ is what they
302:023,40@a   | always say.  
302:023,40@x   | "You feel free in$4$ Australia."  
302:023,40@a   | And so$5#2$ you
302:023,41@a   | do.  There is a great relief in$4$ the atmosphere, a relief from
302:023,42@a   | tension, from pressure.  An absence of control or will$0$ or
302:024,01@a   | form.  The sky is open above you, and the air is open
302:024,02@a   | around you.  Not the old closing-in of Europe.
302:024,03@a   | But what then?  The \vacancy\ of this freedom is almost
302:024,04@a   | terrifying.  In$4$ the openness and the freedom this new
302:024,05@a   | chaos, this litter of bungalows and tin cans scattered for$4$
302:024,06@a   | miles and miles, this Englishness all crumpled out into
302:024,07@a   | formlessness and chaos.  Even the heart of Sydney itself
302:024,08@a   | ~~ an imitation of London and New*York, without any core
302:024,09@a   | or pith of meaning.  Business going on$5$ full speed:  but only
302:024,10@a   | because it is the other end of English and American business.
302:024,11@a   | The absence of any inner meaning: and at the same time
302:024,12@a   | the great sense of vacant spaces.  The sense of irresponsible
302:024,13@a   | freedom.  The sense of do-as-you-please liberty.  And
302:024,14@a   | all utterly uninteresting.  What is more hopelessly uninteresting
302:024,15@a   | than accomplished liberty?  Great swarming,
302:024,16@a   | teeming Sydney flowing out into these myriads of
302:024,17@a   | bungalows, like$4$ shallow waters spreading, undyked.  And
302:024,18@a   | what then?  Nothing.  No$2$ inner life, no$2$ high command,
302:024,19@a   | no$2$ interest in$4$ anything, finally.
302:024,20['  ]| Somers turned over and shut his eyes.  
302:024,20@a   | New countries
302:024,21@a   | were more problematic than old ones.  One loved the sense
302:024,22@a   | of release from old pressure and old tight control, from the
302:024,23@a   | old world of water-tight compartments.  This was Sunday
302:024,24@a   | afternoon, but with none of the surfeited dreariness of
302:024,25@a   | English Sunday afternoons.  It was still a raw loose world.
302:024,26@a   | All Sydney would be out by$4$ the sea or in$4$ the bush, a
302:024,27@a   | roving, unbroken world.  They all rushed from where they
302:024,28@a   | were to$4$ somewhere else, on$4$ holidays.  And to-morrow
302:024,29@a   | they would all be working away, with just as little meaning,
302:024,30@a   | working without any meaning, playing without any meaning;
302:024,31@a   | and yet quite strenuous at it all.  It was just dazing.
302:024,32@a   | Even the rush for$4$ money had no$2$ real pip in$4$ it.  They really
302:024,33@a   | cared very little for$4$ the power that$6#1$ money can give.  And
302:024,34@a   | except for$4$ the sense of power, that$6#1$ had no$2$ real significance
302:024,35@a   | here.  When all is said and done, even money is not much
302:024,36@a   | good where there is no$2$ genuine culture.  Money is a means
302:024,37@a   | to$4$ rising to$4$ a higher, subtler, fuller state of consciousness,
302:024,38@a   | or nothing.  And when you flatly do not want a fuller consciousness,
302:024,39@a   | what good is your money to$4$ you?  Just to$9$
302:024,40@a   | chuck about and gamble with.  Even money is a European
302:024,41@a   | invention ~~ European and American.  It has no$2$ real magic
302:024,42@a   | in$4$ Australia.
302:025,01['  ]| Poor Richard*Lovat wearied himself to$4$ death struggling
302:025,02['  ]| with the problem of himself, and calling it Australia.
302:025,03['  ]| There was no$2$ actual need for$4$ him to$9$ struggle with Australia:
302:025,04['  ]| He must have done it in$4$ the hedonistic sense, to$9$
302:025,05['  ]| please himself.  But it wore him to$4$ rags.
302:025,06['  ]| Harriet sat up$5$ and began dusting the sand from her coat
302:025,07['  ]| ~~ Lovat did likewise.  Then they rose to$9$ be going back to$4$
302:025,08['  ]| the tram-car.  There was a motor-car standing on$4$ the sand
302:025,09['  ]| of the road near the gate of the end house.  The end house
302:025,10['  ]| was called St*Columb, and Somers' heart flew to$4$ Cornwall.
302:025,11['  ]| It was quite a nice little place, standing on$4$ a bluff of sand
302:025,12['  ]| sideways above the lagoon.
302:025,13[B  ]| "I would not mind that$6#2$," 
302:025,13['  ]| said Harriet, looking up$5$ at St*Columb.
302:025,14['  ]|
302:025,15['  ]| But Somers did not answer.  He was shut against any of
302:025,16['  ]| these humiliating little bungalows.  "Love's*Harbour"
302:025,17['  ]| he was just passing by$5$, and it was "4*Sale."  
302:025,17@a   | It would
302:025,18@a   | be.  
302:025,18['  ]| He ploughed grimly through the sand.  "Arcady"
302:025,19['  ]| ~~ "Stella*Maris" ~~ "Racketty-Coo."
302:025,20[D  ]| "I say!"  
302:025,20['  ]| called a voice from behind.
302:025,21['  ]| It was Mrs*Callcott running unevenly over the sand after
302:025,22['  ]| them, the colour high in$4$ her cheeks.  She wore a pale grey
302:025,23['  ]| cre^pe*de*chine dress and grey sue`de shoes.  Some distance
302:025,24['  ]| behind her Jack*Callcott was following, in$4$ his shirt-sleeves.
302:025,25[D  ]| "Fancy you being here!"  
302:025,25['  ]| gasped Mrs*Callcott, and
302:025,26['  ]| Harriet was so$5#1$ flustered she could only cry:
302:025,27[B  ]| "Oh, how do you do!"  ~~ 
302:025,27['  ]| and effusively shake hands,
302:025,28['  ]| as if she were meeting some former acquaintance on$4$ Piccadilly.
302:025,29['  ]| The shaking hands quite put Mrs*Callcott off her
302:025,30['  ]| track.  She felt it almost an affront, and went red.  Her
302:025,31['  ]| husband sauntered up$5$ and put his hands in$4$ his pockets, to$9$
302:025,32['  ]| avoid mistakes.
302:025,33[C  ]| "Ha, what are \you\ doing here," 
302:025,33['  ]| he said to$4$ the Somers
302:025,34['  ]| pair.  
302:025,34[C  ]| "Would not you like$1$ a cup of tea?"
302:025,35['  ]| Harriet glanced at Richard*Lovat.  He was smiling
302:025,36['  ]| faintly.
302:025,37[B  ]| "Oh, we would \love\ it," 
302:025,37['  ]| she replied to$4$ Mr*Callcott.
302:025,38[B  ]| "But where? ~~ have you got a house here?"
302:025,39[C  ]| "My sister has the end house," 
302:025,39['  ]| said he.
302:025,40[B  ]| "Oh, but ~~ will$1$ she want us?"  
302:025,40['  ]| cried Harriet, backing
302:025,41['  ]| out.
302:025,42['  ]| The Callcotts stood for$4$ a moment silent.
302:026,01[C  ]| "Yes, if you like$1$ to$9$ come," 
302:026,01['  ]| said Jack.  And it was
302:026,02['  ]| evident he was aware of Somers' desire to$9$ avoid contact.
302:026,03[B  ]| "Well, I should be awfully grateful," 
302:026,03['  ]| said Harriet.
302:026,04[B  ]| "Would not you, Lovat?"
302:026,05[A  ]| "Yes," 
302:026,05['  ]| he said, smiling to$4$ himself, feeling Jack's manly
302:026,06['  ]| touch of contempt for$4$ all his hedging.
302:026,07['  ]| So$3$ off they went to$4$ "St*Columb."  The sister was a
302:026,08['  ]| brown-eyed Australian with a decided manner, kindly, but
302:026,09['  ]| a litte suspicious of the two newcomers.  Her husband
302:026,10['  ]| was a young Cornishman, rather stout and short and silent.
302:026,11['  ]| He had his hair cut round at the back, in$4$ a slightly rounded
302:026,12['  ]| line above a smooth, sunburnt, reddened nape of the neck.
302:026,13['  ]| Somers found out later that$3$ this young Cornishman ~~ his
302:026,14['  ]| name was Trewhella ~~ had married his brother's widow.
302:026,15['  ]| Mrs*Callcott supplied Harriet later on$5$ with all the information
302:026,16['  ]| concerning her sister-in-law.  The first Trewhella,
302:026,17['  ]| Alfred*John, had died two years ago, leaving his wife with
302:026,18['  ]| a neat sum of money and this house, "St*Columb," and
302:026,19['  ]| also with a little girl named Gladys, who$6#1$ came running in$5$
302:026,20['  ]| shaking her long brown hair just after the Somers appeared.
302:026,21['  ]| So$3$ the present Trewhellas were a newly-married couple.
302:026,22['  ]| The present husband, William*James, went round in$4$ a
302:026,23['  ]| strange, silent fashion helping his wife Rose to$9$ prepare tea.
302:026,24['  ]| The bungalow was pleasant, a large room facing the sea,
302:026,25['  ]| with verandahs and other little rooms opening off.  There
302:026,26['  ]| were many family photographs, and a framed medal and
302:026,27['  ]| ribbon and letter praising the first Trewhella.  Mrs*Trewhella
302:026,28['  ]| was alert and watchful, and decided to$9$ be genteel.
302:026,29['  ]| So$3$ the party sat around in$4$ the basket chairs and on$4$ the
302:026,30['  ]| settles under the windows, instead of sitting at table for$4$
302:026,31['  ]| tea.  And William*James silently but willingly carried
302:026,32['  ]| round the bread and butter and the cakes.
302:026,33@a   | He was a queer young man, with an Irish-looking face,
302:026,34@a   | rather pale, an odd kind of humour in$4$ his grey eye and in$4$
302:026,35@a   | the corners of his pursed mouth.  But he spoke never a
302:026,36@a   | word.  It was hard to$9$ decide his age ~~ probably about
302:026,37@a   | thirty ~~ a little younger than his wife.  He seemed silently
302:026,38@a   | pleased about something ~~ perhaps his marriage.  
302:026,38['  ]| Somers
302:026,39['  ]| noticed that$3$ the whites of his eyes were rather bloodshot.
302:026,40@e   | He had been in$4$ Australia since he was a boy of fifteen ~~ he
302:026,41@e   | had come with his brother ~~ from St*Columb, near New*quay
302:026,42@e   | ~~ St*Columb*Major.  
302:026,42['  ]| So$5#1$ much Somers elicited.
302:027,01[F  ]| "Well, how do you like$1$ Sydney?"  
302:027,01['  ]| came the inevitable
302:027,02['  ]| question from Mrs*Trewhella.
302:027,03[A  ]| "The harbour, I think, is wonderful," 
302:027,03['  ]| came Somers'
302:027,04['  ]| invariable answer.
302:027,05[F  ]| "It is a fine harbour, is not it.  And Sydney is a fine
302:027,06[F  ]| town.  Oh yes, I have lived there all my life."
302:027,07['  ]| The conversation languished.  Callcott was silent, and
302:027,08['  ]| William*James seemed as if he were never anything else.
302:027,09['  ]| Even the little girl only fluttered into a whisper and went
302:027,10['  ]| still again.  Everybody was a little embarrassed, rather
302:027,11['  ]| stiff:  too genteel, or not genteel enough.  And the men
302:027,12['  ]| seemed absolute logs.
302:027,13[C  ]| "You do not think much of Australia, then?"  
302:027,13['  ]| said Jack
302:027,14['  ]| to$4$ Somers.
302:027,15[A  ]| "Why," 
302:027,15['  ]| answered the latter, 
302:027,15[A  ]| "how am I to$9$ judge!  I
302:027,16[A  ]| have not even seen the fringe of it."
302:027,17[C  ]| "Oh, it is mostly fringe," 
302:027,17['  ]| said Jack.  
302:027,17[C  ]| "But it has not
302:027,18[C  ]| made a good impression on$4$ you?"
302:027,19[A  ]| "I do not know yet.  My feelings are mixed.  The
302:027,20[A  ]| \country\ seems to$4$ me to$9$ have a fascination ~~ strange ~~ "
302:027,21[C  ]| "But you do not take to$4$ the Aussies, at first sight.  Bit
302:027,22[C  ]| of a collision between their aura and yours,"  
302:027,22['  ]| smiled Jack.
302:027,23[A  ]| "Maybe that$6#2$ is what it is," 
302:027,23['  ]| said Somers.  
302:027,23[A  ]| "That$6#2$ is a
302:027,24[A  ]| useful way of putting it.  I can not help my aura colliding,
302:027,25[A  ]| can I?"
302:027,26[C  ]| "Of course you can not.  And if it is a tender sort of aura,
302:027,27[C  ]| of course it feels the bump."
302:027,28[B  ]| "Oh, do not talk about it,"  
302:027,28['  ]| cried Harriet.  
302:027,28[B  ]| "He must
302:027,29[B  ]| be just one big bump, by$4$ the way he grumbles."
302:027,30['  ]| They all laughed ~~ perhaps a trifle uneasily.
302:027,31[C  ]| "I thought so$5#2$," 
302:027,31['  ]| said Jack.  
302:027,31[C  ]| "What made you come
302:027,32[C  ]| here?  Thought you would like$1$ to$9$ write about it?"
302:027,33[A  ]| "I thought I might like$1$ to$9$ live here ~~ and write here,"
302:027,34['  ]| replied Somers smiling.
302:027,35[C  ]| "Write about the bushrangers and the heroine lost in$4$
302:027,36[C  ]| the bush and wandering into a camp of bullies?"   
302:027,36['  ]| said
302:027,37['  ]| Jack.
302:027,38[A  ]| "Maybe."  
302:027,38['  ]| said Somers.
302:027,39[C  ]| "Do you mind if I ask you what sort of things you do
302:027,40[C  ]| write?"  
302:027,40['  ]| said Jack, with some delicacy.
302:027,41[A  ]| "Oh ~~ poetry ~~ essays."
302:027,42[C  ]| "Essays about what?"
302:028,01[A  ]| "Oh ~~ rubbish mostly."
302:028,02['  ]| There was a moment's pause.
302:028,03[B  ]| "Oh, Lovat, do not be so$5#1$ silly.  You \know\ you do not
302:028,04[B  ]| think your essays rubbish," 
302:028,04['  ]| put in$5$ Harriet.  
302:028,04[B  ]| "They are
302:028,05[B  ]| about life, and democracy, and equality, and all that$6#2$ sort
302:028,06[B  ]| of thing," 
302:028,06['  ]| Harriet explained.
302:028,07[C  ]| "Oh, yes?"  
302:028,07['  ]| said Jack.  
302:028,07[C  ]| "I would like$1$ to$9$ read some."
302:028,08[B  ]| "Well," 
302:028,08['  ]| hesitated Harriet.  
302:028,08[B  ]| "He can lend you a
302:028,09[B  ]| volume ~~ you have got some with you, have not you?"  
302:028,09['  ]| she
302:028,10['  ]| added, turning to$4$ Somers.
302:028,11[A  ]| "I have got one," 
302:028,11['  ]| admitted that$6#2$ individual, looking
302:028,12['  ]| daggers at her.
302:028,13[B  ]| "Well, you will$1$ lend it to$4$ Mr*Callcott, will$1$ not you?"
302:028,14[A  ]| "If he wants it.  But it will$1$ only bore him."
302:028,15[C  ]| "I might rise up$5$ to$4$ it, you know," 
302:028,15['  ]| said Jack laconically,
302:028,16[C  ]| "if I bring all my mental weight to$9$ bear on$4$ it."
302:028,17['  ]| Somers flushed, and laughed at the contradiction in$4$
302:028,18['  ]| metaphor.
302:028,19[A  ]| "It is not the loftiness," 
302:028,19['  ]| he said, rather amused.  
302:028,19[A  ]| "It is
302:028,20[A  ]| that$3$ people just do not care to$9$ hear some things."
302:028,21[C  ]| "Well, let me try," 
302:028,21['  ]| said Jack.  
302:028,21[C  ]| "We are a new country
302:028,22[C  ]| ~~ and we are out to$9$ learn."
302:028,23[E  ]| "That$6#2$ is exactly what we are not," 
302:028,23['  ]| broke out William*James,
302:028,24['  ]| with a Cornish accent and a blurt of a laugh.
302:028,25[E  ]| "We are out to$9$ show to$4$ everybody that$3$ we know everything
302:028,26[E  ]| there is to$9$ be known."
302:028,27[C  ]| "That$6#2$ is some of us," 
302:028,27['  ]| said Jack.
302:028,28[E  ]| "And most of us," 
302:028,28['  ]| said William*James.
302:028,29[C  ]| "Have it your own way, boy.  But let us speak for$4$ the
302:028,30[C  ]| minority.  And there is a minority that$6#1$ knows we have got
302:028,31[C  ]| to$9$ learn a big lesson ~~ and that$6#1$ is willing to$9$ learn it."
302:028,32['  ]| Again there was silence.  The women seemed almost
302:028,33['  ]| effaced.
302:028,34@a   | "There is one thing," 
302:028,34['  ]| thought Somers to$4$ himself, 
302:028,34@a   | "when
302:028,35@a   | these Colonials \do\ speak seriously, they speak like$4$ men, not
302:028,36@a   | like$4$ babies."  
302:028,36['  ]| He looked up$5$ at Jack.
302:028,37[A  ]| "It is the world that$6#1$ has got to$9$ learn a lesson," 
302:028,37['  ]| he said.
302:028,38[A  ]| "Not only Australia."  
302:028,38['  ]| His tone was acid and sinister.
302:028,39['  ]| And he looked with his hard, pale blue eyes at Callcott.
302:028,40['  ]| Callcott's eyes, brown and less concentrated, less hard,
302:028,41['  ]| looked back curiously at the other man.
302:028,42[C  ]| "Possibly it is," 
302:028,42['  ]| he said.  
302:028,42[C  ]| "But my job is Australia."
302:029,01['  ]| Somers watched him.  
302:029,01@a   | Callcott had a pale, clean-shaven,
302:029,02@a   | lean face with close-shut lips.  But his lips were not bitten
302:029,03@a   | in$5$ until they just formed a slit, as they so$5#1$ often are in$4$
302:029,04@a   | Colonials.  And his eyes had a touch of mystery, of
302:029,05@a   | aboriginal darkness.
302:029,06[A  ]| "Do you care very much for$4$ Australia?"  
302:029,06['  ]| said Somers,
302:029,07['  ]| a little wistfully.
302:029,08[C  ]| "I believe I do," 
302:029,08['  ]| said Jack.  
302:029,08[C  ]| "But if I was out of a
302:029,09[C  ]| job like$4$ plenty of other unlucky diggers, I suppose I should
302:029,10[C  ]| care more about getting a job."
302:029,11[A  ]| "But you care very much about your Australia?"
302:029,12[C  ]| "My Australia?  Yes, I own about seven acres of it,
302:029,13[C  ]| all told.  I suppose I care very much about that$6#2$.  I pay
302:029,14[C  ]| my taxes on$4$ it, all right."
302:029,15[A  ]| "No$7$, but the future of Austalia."
302:029,16[C  ]| "You will$1$ never see me on$4$ a platform shouting about it."
302:029,17['  ]| The Lovats said 
302:029,17@x   | they must be going.
302:029,18[C  ]| "If you like$1$ to$9$ crowd in$5$," 
302:029,18['  ]| said Jack, 
302:029,18[C  ]| "we can take you
302:029,19[C  ]| in$4$ the car.  We can squeeze in$5$ Mr*Somers in$4$ front, and
302:029,20[C  ]| there will$1$ be plenty of room for$4$ the others at the back, if
302:029,21[C  ]| Gladys sits on$4$ her Dad's knee."
302:029,22['  ]| This time Somers accepted at once.  He felt the halting
302:029,23['  ]| refusals were becoming ridiculous.
302:029,24['  ]| They left at sunset.  The west, over the land, was a
302:029,25['  ]| clear gush of light up$5$ from the departed sun.  The east,
302:029,26['  ]| over the Pacific, was a tall concave of rose-coloured clouds,
302:029,27['  ]| a marvellous high apse.  Now the bush had gone dark and
302:029,28['  ]| spectral again, on$4$ the right hand.  You might still imagine
302:029,29['  ]| inhuman presences moving among the gum trees.  And
302:029,30['  ]| from time to$4$ time, on$4$ the left hand, they caught sight of
302:029,31['  ]| the long green rollers of the Pacific, with the star-white
302:029,32['  ]| foam, and behind that$6#2$ the dusk-green sea glimmered over
302:029,33['  ]| with smoky rose, reflected from the eastern horizon where
302:029,34['  ]| the bank of flesh-rose colour and pure smoke-blue lingered
302:029,35['  ]| a long time, like$4$ magic, as if the sky's rim were cooling
302:029,36['  ]| down.  It seemed to$4$ Somers characteristic of Australia,
302:029,37['  ]| this far-off flesh-rose bank of colour on$4$ the sky's horizon,
302:029,38['  ]| so$5#1$ tender and unvisited, topped with the smoky, beautiful
302:029,39['  ]| blueness.  And then the thickness of the night's stars overhead,
302:029,40['  ]| and one star very brave in$4$ the last effulgence of
302:029,41['  ]| sunset, westward over the continent.  As soon as night
302:029,42['  ]| came, all the raggle-taggle of amorphous white settlements
302:030,01['  ]| disappeared, and the continent of the Kangaroo reassumed
302:030,02['  ]| its strange, unvisited glamour, a kind of virgin sensual
302:030,03['  ]| aloofness.
302:030,04['  ]| Somers sat in$4$ front between Jack and Victoria*Callcott,
302:030,05['  ]| because he was so$5#1$ slight.  He made himself as small as he
302:030,06['  ]| could, like$4$ the ham in$4$ the sandwich.  When he looked her
302:030,07['  ]| way, he found Victoria watching him under her lashes,
302:030,08['  ]| and as she met his eyes, she flared into smile that$6#1$ filled
302:030,09['  ]| him with wonder.  
302:030,09@a   | She had such a charming, innocent
302:030,10@a   | look, like$4$ an innocent girl, naive and a little gawky.  Yet
302:030,11@a   | the strange exposed smile she gave him in$4$ the dusk.  
302:030,11['  ]| It
302:030,12['  ]| puzzled him to$9$ know what to$9$ make of it.  
302:030,12@a   | Like$4$ an offering
302:030,13@a   | ~~ and yet innocent.  Perhaps like$4$ the sacred prostitutes of
302:030,14@a   | the temple:  acknowledgment of the sacredness of the act.
302:030,15['  ]| He chose not to$9$ think of it, and stared away across the
302:030,16['  ]| bonnet of the car at the fading land.
302:030,17@a   | Queer, 
302:030,17['  ]| thought Somers, 
302:030,17@a   | this girl at once sees perhaps the
302:030,18@a   | most real me, and most women take me for$4$ something I
302:030,19@a   | am not at all.  Queer to$9$ be recognised at once, as if one
302:030,20@a   | were of the same family.
302:030,21['  ]| He had to$9$ admit that$3$ he was flattered also.  
302:030,21@a   | She seemed
302:030,22@a   | to$9$ see the wonder in$4$ him.  And she had none of the
302:030,23@a   | European women's desire to$9$ make a conquest of him, none
302:030,24@a   | of that$6#2$ feminine rapacity which$6#1$ is so$5#1$ hateful in$4$ the old
302:030,25@a   | world.  She seemed like$4$ an old Greek girl just bringing an
302:030,26@a   | offering to$4$ the altar of the mystic Bacchus.  The offering
302:030,27@a   | of herself.
302:030,28['  ]| Her husband sat steering the car and smoking his short
302:030,29['  ]| pipe in$4$ silence.  He seemed to$9$ have something to$9$ think
302:030,30['  ]| about.  At least he had considerable power of silence, a
302:030,31['  ]| silence which$6#1$ made itself felt.  Perhaps he knew his wife
302:030,32['  ]| much better than anyone else.  At any rate he did not
302:030,33['  ]| feel it necessary to$9$ keep an eye on$4$ her.  
302:030,33@c   | If she liked to$9$
302:030,34@c   | look at Somers with a strange, exposed smile, that$6#2$ was her
302:030,35@c   | affair.  She could do as she liked in$4$ that$6#2$ direction, so$5#1$ far
302:030,36@c   | as he, 
302:030,36['  ]| Jack*Callcott 
302:030,36@c   | was concerned.  She was his wife:  she
302:030,37@c   | knew it, and he knew it.  
302:030,37['  ]| And it was quite established
302:030,38['  ]| and final.  So$5#1$ long as she did not betray what was between
302:030,39['  ]| her and him, as husband and wife, she could do as she
302:030,40['  ]| liked with the rest of herself.  And he could, quite rightly,
302:030,41['  ]| trust her to$9$ be faithful to$4$ that$6#2$ undefinable relation which$6#1$
302:030,42['  ]| subsisted between them as man and wife.  He did not
302:031,01['  ]| pretend and did not want to$9$ occupy the whole field of her
302:031,02['  ]| consciousness.
302:031,03['  ]| And in$4$ just the same way, that$6#2$ bond which$6#1$ connected
302:031,04['  ]| himself with her, he would always keep unbroken for$4$ his
302:031,05['  ]| part.  But that$6#2$ did not mean that$3$ he was sworn body and
302:031,06['  ]| soul to$4$ his wife.  Oh no$7$.  There was a good deal of him
302:031,07['  ]| which$6#1$ did not come into the marriage bond, and with all
302:031,08['  ]| this part of himself he was free to$9$ make the best he could,
302:031,09['  ]| according to$4$ his own idea.  He loved her, quite sincerely,
302:031,10['  ]| for$4$ her naive sophisticated innocence which$6#1$ allowed him to$9$
302:031,11['  ]| be unknown to$4$ her, except in$4$ so$5#1$ far as they were truly and
302:031,12['  ]| intimately related.  It was the innocence which$6#1$ has been
302:031,13['  ]| through the fire, and knows its own limitations.  In$4$ the
302:031,14['  ]| same way he quite consciously chose not to$9$ know anything
302:031,15['  ]| more about her than just so$5#1$ much as entered into the
302:031,16['  ]| absolute relationship between them.  He quite definitely
302:031,17['  ]| did not want to$9$ absorb her, or to$9$ occupy the whole field of
302:031,18['  ]| her nature.  He would trust her to$9$ go her own way, only
302:031,19['  ]| keeping her to$4$ the pledge that$6#1$ was between them.  What
302:031,20['  ]| this pledge consisted in$4$ he did not try to$9$ define.  It was
302:031,21['  ]| something indefinite:  the field of contact between their two
302:031,22['  ]| personalities.  Where their two personalities met and
302:031,23['  ]| joined, they were one, and pledged to$4$ permanent fidelity.
302:031,24['  ]| But that$6#2$ part in$4$ each of them which$6#1$ did not belong to$4$ the
302:031,25['  ]| other was free from all enquiry or even from knowledge.
302:031,26['  ]| Each silently consented to$9$ leave the other in$4$ large part
302:031,27['  ]| unknown, unknown in$4$ work and deed and very being.
302:031,28['  ]| They did not \want\ to$9$ know ~~ too  much knowledge would be
302:031,29['  ]| like$4$ shackles.
302:031,30['  ]| Such marriage is established on$4$ a very subtle sense of
302:031,31['  ]| honour and of individual integrity.  It seems as if each
302:031,32['  ]| race and each continent has its own marriage instinct.
302:031,33['  ]| And the instinct that$6#1$ develops in$4$ Australia will$1$ certainly
302:031,34['  ]| not be the same as the instinct that$6#1$ develops in$4$ America.
302:031,35['  ]| And each people must follow its own instinct, if it is to$9$
302:031,36['  ]| live, no$2$ matter whether the marriage law be universal or
302:031,37['  ]| not.
302:031,38['  ]| The Callcotts had come to$4$ no$2$ agreement, verbally, as to$4$
302:031,39['  ]| their marriage.  They had not thought it out.  They
302:031,40['  ]| were Australians, of strongly, subtly-developed desire for$4$
302:031,41['  ]| freedom, and with considerable indifference to$4$ old formula*e
302:031,42['  ]| and the conventions based thereon.  So$3$ they took their
302:032,01['  ]| stand instinctively and calmly.  Jack had defined his stand
302:032,02['  ]| as far as he found necessary.  
302:032,02@c   | If his wife was good to$4$ him
302:032,03@c   | and satisfied him in$4$ so$5#1$ far as \he\ went, then he was pledged
302:032,04@c   | to$9$ trust her to$9$ do as she liked outside his ken, outside his
302:032,05@c   | range.  He would make a cage for$4$ nobody.  
302:032,05['  ]| This he openly
302:032,06['  ]| propounded to$4$ his mates:  to$4$ William*James, for$4$ example,
302:032,07['  ]| and later to$4$ Somers.  William*James said 
302:032,07@e   | yes, 
302:032,07['  ]| but thought
302:032,08['  ]| the more.  Somers was frankly disturbed, not liking the
302:032,09['  ]| thought of applying the same prescription to$4$ his own
302:032,10['  ]| marriage.
302:032,11['  ]| They put down the Trewhellas at their house in$4$ North*Sydney,
302:032,12['  ]| and went on$5$ to$4$ Murdoch*Road over the ferry.
302:032,13['  ]| Jack had still to$9$ take the car down to$4$ the garage in$4$ town.
302:032,14['  ]| Victoria said 
302:032,14@d   | she would prepare the high tea 
302:032,14['  ]| which$6#1$ takes
302:032,15['  ]| the place of dinner and supper in$4$ Australia, against his
302:032,16['  ]| return.  So$3$ Harriet boldly invited them to$4$ this high tea
302:032,17['  ]| ~~ a real substantial meal ~~ in$4$ her own house.  Victoria was
302:032,18['  ]| to$9$ help her prepare it, and Jack was to$9$ come straight back
302:032,19['  ]| to$4$ Torestin.  Victoria was as pleased as a lamb with two
302:032,20['  ]| tails over this arrangement, and went in$5$ to$9$ change her
302:032,21['  ]| dress.
302:032,22['  ]| Somers knew why Harriet had launched this invitation.
302:032,23['  ]| It was because she had had a wonderfully successful cooking
302:032,24['  ]| morning.  Like$4$ plenty of other women Harriet had
302:032,25['  ]| learned to$9$ cook during war-time, and now she loved it,
302:032,26['  ]| once in$4$ a while.  This had been one of the whiles.  Somers
302:032,27['  ]| had stoked the excellent little stove, and peeled the apples
302:032,28['  ]| and potatoes and onions and pumpkin, and looked after
302:032,29['  ]| the meat and the sauces, while Harriet had lashed out in$4$
302:032,30['  ]| pies and tarts and little cakes and baked custard.  She now
302:032,31['  ]| surveyed her prize Beeton shelf with love, and began to$9$
302:032,32['  ]| whisk up$5$ a mayonnaise for$4$ potato salad.
302:032,33['  ]| Victoria appeared in$4$ a pale gauze dress of pale pink with
302:032,34['  ]| little dabs of gold ~~ a sort of tea-party dress ~~ and with her
302:032,35['  ]| brown hair loosely knotted behind, and with innocent
302:032,36['  ]| sophistication pulled a bit untidy over her womanly forehead,
302:032,37['  ]| she looked winsome.  Her colour was very warm,
302:032,38['  ]| and she was gawkily excited.  Harriet put on$5$ an old yellow
302:032,39['  ]| silk frock, and Somers changed into a dark suit.  For$4$ tea
302:032,40['  ]| there was cold roast pork with first-class brown crackling
302:032,41['  ]| on$4$ it, and potato salad, beetroot, and lettuce, and apple
302:032,42['  ]| chutney; then a dressed lobster ~~ or crayfish, very good,
302:033,01['  ]| pink and white; and then apple pie and custard-tarts and
302:033,02['  ]| cakes and a dish of apples and passion*fruits and oranges,
302:033,03['  ]| and pine-apple and some bananas:  and of course big cups of
302:033,04['  ]| tea, breakfast-cups.
302:033,05['  ]| Victoria and Harriet were delighted, Somers juggled with
302:033,06['  ]| colour-schemes on$4$ the table, the one central room in$4$ the
302:033,07['  ]| bungalow was brilliantly lighted, and the kettle sang on$4$ the
302:033,08['  ]| hearth.  After months of India, with all the Indian decorum
302:033,09['  ]| and two silent men-servants waiting at table:  and after
302:033,10['  ]| the old-fashioned gentility of the P%*and*O% steamer, Somers
302:033,11['  ]| and Harriet felt 
302:033,11@x   | this show rather a come-down maybe, but
302:033,12@x   | still good fun.  
302:033,12['  ]| Victoria felt 
302:033,12@d   | it was almost "society."
302:033,13['  ]| They waited for$4$ Jack.
302:033,14['  ]| Jack arrived bending forward rather in$4$ the doorway, a
302:033,15['  ]| watchful look on$4$ his pale, clean-shaven face, and that$6#2$
302:033,16['  ]| atmosphere of silence about him which$6#1$ is characteristic of
302:033,17['  ]| many Australians.
302:033,18[C  ]| "Kept you waiting?"  
302:033,18['  ]| he asked.
302:033,19[B  ]| "We were just ready for$4$ you," 
302:033,19['  ]| said Harriet.
302:033,20['  ]| Jack had to$9$ carve the meat, because Somers was so$5#1$ bad
302:033,21['  ]| at it and did not like$1$ doing it.  Harriet poured the great
302:033,22['  ]| cups of tea.  Callcott looked with a quick eye round the
302:033,23['  ]| table to$9$ see exactly what he wanted to$9$ eat, and Victoria
302:033,24['  ]| peeped through her lashes to$9$ see exactly how Harriet
302:033,25['  ]| behaved.  As Harriet always behaved in$4$ the vaguest
302:033,26['  ]| manner possible, and ate her sweets with her fish-fork and
302:033,27['  ]| her soup with her pudding spoon, a study of her table
302:033,28['  ]| manners was not particularly profitable.
302:033,29['  ]| To$4$ Somers it was like$4$ being back twenty-five years, back
302:033,30['  ]| in$4$ an English farm-house in$4$ the Midlands, at Sunday tea.
302:033,31['  ]| He had gone a long way from the English Midlands, and
302:033,32['  ]| got out of the way of them.  Only to$9$ find them here again,
302:033,33['  ]| with hardly a change.  To$4$ Harriet it was all novel and
302:033,34['  ]| fun.  But Richard*Lovat felt vaguely depressed.
302:033,35['  ]| The pleasant heartiness of the life he had known as a
302:033,36['  ]| boy now depressed him.  He hated the promiscuous mixing
302:033,37['  ]| in$5$ of all the company, the lack of reserve in$4$ manner.  He
302:033,38['  ]| had preferred India for$4$ that$6#2$:  the gulf between the native
302:033,39['  ]| servants and the whites kept up$5$ a sort of tone.  He had
302:033,40['  ]| learned to$9$ be separate, to$9$ talk across a slight distance.
302:033,41['  ]| And that$6#2$ was an immense relief to$4$ him, because it was really
302:033,42['  ]| more his nature.  Now he found himself soused again in$4$
302:034,01['  ]| the old familiar "jolly and cosy" spirit of his childhood
302:034,02['  ]| and boyhood, and he was depressed.
302:034,03['  ]| Jack, of course, had a certain reserve.  But of a different
302:034,04['  ]| sort.  Not a physical reserve.  He did keep his coat on$5$,
302:034,05['  ]| but he might as well have sat there in$4$ his shirt-sleeves.
302:034,06['  ]| His very silence was, so$5#2$ to$9$ speak, in$4$ its shirt-sleeves.
302:034,07['  ]| There was a curious battle in$4$ silence going on$5$ between
302:034,08['  ]| the two men.  To$4$ Harriet, all this familiar shirt-sleeve
302:034,09['  ]| business was just fun, the charades.  In$4$ her most gushing
302:034,10['  ]| genial moments she was still only masquerading inside her
302:034,11['  ]| class ~~ the "upper" class of Europe.  But Somers was of
302:034,12['  ]| the people himself, and he had that$6#2$ alert \instinct\ of the
302:034,13['  ]| common people, the instinctive knowledge of what his
302:034,14['  ]| neighbour was wanting and thinking, and the instinctive
302:034,15['  ]| necessity to$9$ answer.  With the other classes, there is a
302:034,16['  ]| certain definite breach between individual and individual,
302:034,17['  ]| and not much goes across except what is intended to$9$ go
302:034,18['  ]| across.  But with the common people, and with most
302:034,19['  ]| Australians, there is no$2$ breach.  The communication is
302:034,20['  ]| silent and involuntary, the give and take flows like$4$ waves
302:034,21['  ]| from person to$4$ person, and each one knows:  unless he is
302:034,22['  ]| foiled by$4$ speech.  Each one knows in$4$ silence, reciprocates
302:034,23['  ]| in$4$ silence, and the talk as a rule just babbles on$5$, on$4$ the
302:034,24['  ]| surface.  This is the common people among themselves.
302:034,25['  ]| But there is this difference in$4$ Australia.  Each individual
302:034,26['  ]| seems to$9$ feel himself pledged to$9$ put himself aside, to$9$ keep
302:034,27['  ]| himself at least half out of count.  The whole geniality is
302:034,28['  ]| based on$4$ a sort of code of 
302:034,28@x   | "You put yourself aside, and
302:034,29@x   | I will$1$ put myself aside."  
302:034,29['  ]| This is done with a watchful will$0$:
302:034,30['  ]| a sort of duel.  And above this, a great geniality.  But
302:034,31['  ]| the continual holding most of himself aside, out of count,
302:034,32['  ]| makes a man go blank in$4$ his withheld self.  And that$6#2$, too,
302:034,33['  ]| is puzzling.
302:034,34['  ]| Probably this is more true of the men than of the women.
302:034,35['  ]| Probably women change less, from land to$4$ land, play fewer
302:034,36['  ]| "code" tricks with themselves.  At any rate, Harriet and
302:034,37['  ]| Victoria got on$5$ like$4$ a house on$4$ fire, and as they were both
302:034,38['  ]| beautiful women, and both looking well as they talked,
302:034,39['  ]| everything seemed splendid.  But Victoria was really paying
302:034,40['  ]| just a wee bit of homage all the time, homage to$4$ the
302:034,41['  ]| superior class.
302:034,42['  ]| As for$4$ the two men:  Somers \seemed\ a gentleman, and
302:035,01['  ]| Jack did not want to$9$ be a gentleman.  Somers \seemed\ a
302:035,02['  ]| real gentleman.  And yet Jack recognised in$4$ him at once
302:035,03['  ]| the intuitive response which$6#1$ only subsists, normally,
302:035,04['  ]| between members of the same class:  between the common
302:035,05['  ]| people.  Perhaps the best of the upper classes have the
302:035,06['  ]| same intuitive understanding of their fellow-man:  but
302:035,07['  ]| there is always a certain reserve in$4$ the response, a preference
302:035,08['  ]| for$4$ the non-intuitive forms of communication, for$4$
302:035,09['  ]| deliberate speech.  What is not said is supposed not to$9$
302:035,10['  ]| exist:  that$6#2$ is almost code of honour with the other classes.
302:035,11['  ]| With the true common people, only that$6#2$ which$6#1$ is \not\ said
302:035,12['  ]| is of any vital significance.
302:035,13['  ]| Which$6#1$ brings us back to$4$ Jack and Somers.  The one
302:035,14['  ]| thing Somers had kept, and which$6#1$ he possessed in$4$ a very
302:035,15['  ]| high degree, was the power of intuitive communication
302:035,16['  ]| with others.  Much as he wanted to$9$ be alone, to$9$ stand clear
302:035,17['  ]| from the weary business of unanimity with everybody, he
302:035,18['  ]| had never chosen really to$9$ suspend this power of intuitive
302:035,19['  ]| response:  not till he was personally offended, and then it
302:035,20['  ]| switched off and became a blank wall.  But the smallest
302:035,21['  ]| act of real kindness would call it back into life again.
302:035,22['  ]| Jack had been generous, and Somers liked him.  Therefore
302:035,23['  ]| he could not withhold his soul from responding to$4$
302:035,24['  ]| him, in$4$ a measure.  And Jack, what did he want?  He
302:035,25['  ]| saw this other little fellow, a gentleman, apparently, and
302:035,26['  ]| yet different, not exactly a gentleman.  And he wanted
302:035,27['  ]| to$9$ know him, to$9$ talk to$4$ him.  He wanted to$9$ get at the
302:035,28['  ]| bottom of him.  For$3$ there was something about Somers
302:035,29@c   | ~~ he might be a German, he might be a bolshevist, he
302:035,30@c   | might be anything, and he \must\ be something, because he
302:035,31@c   | was different, a gentleman and not a gentleman.  He was
302:035,32@c   | different because, when he looked at you, he knew you
302:035,33@c   | more or less in$4$ your own terms, not as an outsider.  He
302:035,34@c   | looked at you as if he were one of your own sort.  He
302:035,35@c   | answered you intuitively as if he were one of your own
302:035,36@c   | sort.  And yet he had the speech and the clear definiteness
302:035,37@c   | of a gentleman.  Neither one thing nor the other.  And
302:035,38@c   | he seemed to$9$ know a lot.  
302:035,38['  ]| Jack was sure that$3$ 
302:035,38@c   | Somers
302:035,39@c   | knew a lot, and could tell him a lot, if he would but let
302:035,40@c   | it out.
302:035,41['  ]| If he had been just a gentleman, of course, Jack would
302:035,42['  ]| never have thought of wanting him to$9$ open out.  Because
302:036,01['  ]| a gentleman has nothing to$9$ open towards a man of the
302:036,02['  ]| people.  He can only talk, and the working man can only
302:036,03['  ]| listen across a distance.  
302:036,03@c   | But seeing that$3$ this little fellow
302:036,04@c   | was both a gentleman and not a gentleman; seeing he was
302:036,05@c   | just like$4$ one of yourselves, and yet had all the other qualities
302:036,06@c   | of a gentleman:  why, you might just as well get the
302:036,07@c   | secret out of him.
302:036,08['  ]| Somers knew the attitude, and was not going to$9$ be
302:036,09['  ]| drawn.  He talked freely and pleasantly enough ~~ but
302:036,10['  ]| never as Jack wanted.  He knew well enough what Jack
302:036,11['  ]| wanted:  which$6#1$ was that$3$ they should talk together as man
302:036,12['  ]| to$4$ man ~~ as pals, you know, with a little difference.  But
302:036,13['  ]| Somers would never be pals with any man.  It was not in$4$
302:036,14['  ]| his nature.  He talked pleasantly and familiarly ~~ fascinating
302:036,15['  ]| to$4$ Victoria, who$6#1$ sat with her brown eyes watching
302:036,16['  ]| him, while she clung to$4$ Jack's arm on$4$ the sofa.  When
302:036,17['  ]| Somers was talking and telling, it was fascinating, and his
302:036,18['  ]| quick, mobile face changed and seemed full of magic.
302:036,19['  ]| Perhaps it was difficult to$9$ locate any definite \Somers\, any
302:036,20['  ]| one individual in$4$ all this ripple of animation and communication.
302:036,21['  ]| The man himself seemed lost in$4$ the bright
302:036,22['  ]| aura of his rapid consciousness.  This fascinated Victoria:
302:036,23['  ]| she of course imagined some sort of God in$4$ the fiery bush.
302:036,24['  ]| But Jack was mistrustful.  He mistrusted all this bright
302:036,25['  ]| quickness.  
302:036,25@c   | If there was an individual inside the brightly-burning
302:036,26@c   | bush of consciousness, let him come out, man to$4$
302:036,27@c   | man.  Even if it was a sort of God in$4$ the bush, let him
302:036,28@c   | come out, man to$4$ man.  Otherwise let him be considered a
302:036,29@c   | sort of mountebank, a show-man, too clever by$4$ half.
302:036,30['  ]| Somers knew pretty well Jack's estimation of him.  Jack,
302:036,31['  ]| sitting there smoking his little short pipe, with his lovely
302:036,32['  ]| wife in$4$ her pink georgette frock hanging on$5$ to$4$ his side, and
302:036,33['  ]| the watchful look on$4$ his face, was the manly man, the
302:036,34['  ]| consciously manly man.  And he had just a bit of contempt
302:036,35['  ]| for$4$ the brilliant little fellow opposite, and he felt just a bit
302:036,36['  ]| uneasy because the same little fellow laughed at his "manliness,"
302:036,37['  ]| knowing it did not go right through.  It takes more
302:036,38['  ]| than "manliness" to$9$ make a man.
302:036,39['  ]| Somers' very brilliance had an overtone of contempt in$4$
302:036,40['  ]| it, for$4$ the other man.  The women, of course, not demanding
302:036,41['  ]| any orthodox "manliness," did not mind the knock at
302:036,42['  ]| Jack's particular sort.  And to$4$ them Somers' chief fascination
302:037,01['  ]| lay in$4$ the fact that$3$ he was never "pals."  They were
302:037,02['  ]| too deeply women to$9$ care for$4$ the sham of pals.
302:037,03['  ]| So$3$ Jack went home after a whisky and soda with his nose
302:037,04['  ]| a little bit out of joint.  The little man was never going
302:037,05['  ]| to$9$ be pals, that$6#2$ was the first fact to$9$ be digested.  And he
302:037,06['  ]| could not be despised as a softy, he was too keen; he just
302:037,07['  ]| laughed at the other man's attempt at despising him.  Yet
302:037,08['  ]| Jack did want to$9$ get at him, somehow or other.
303:038,00@@@@@|
303:038,01[C  ]| "What do you think of things in$4$ general?"  
303:038,01['  ]| Callcott asked
303:038,02['  ]| of Somers one evening, a fortnight or so$5#2$ after their first
303:038,03['  ]| encounter.  They were getting used to$4$ one another:  and
303:038,04['  ]| they liked one another, in$4$ a separated sort of way.  When
303:038,05['  ]| neither of them was on$4$ the warpath, they were quite happy
303:038,06['  ]| together.  They played chess together now and then, a
303:038,07['  ]| wild and haphazard game.  Somers invented quite brilliant
303:038,08['  ]| attacks, and rushed in$5$ recklessly, occasionally wiping Jack
303:038,09['  ]| off the board in$4$ a quarter of an hour.  But he was very
303:038,10['  ]| careless of his defence.  The other man played at this.
303:038,11['  ]| To$9$ give Callcott justice, he was more accustomed to$4$
303:038,12['  ]| draughts than to$4$ chess, and Somers had never played
303:038,13['  ]| draughts, not to$9$ remember.  So$3$ Jack played a draughts
303:038,14['  ]| game, aiming at seizing odd pieces.  It was not Somers'
303:038,15['  ]| idea of chess, so$3$ he would not take the trouble to$9$ defend
303:038,16['  ]| himself.  His men fell to$4$ this ambush, and he lost the
303:038,17['  ]| game.  Because at the end, when he had only one or two
303:038,18['  ]| pieces to$4$ attack, Jack was very clever at cornering, having
303:038,19['  ]| the draughts moves off by$4$ heart.
303:038,20[A  ]| "But it is not chess," 
303:038,20['  ]| protested Somers.
303:038,21[C  ]| "You have lost, have not you?"  
303:038,21['  ]| said Jack.
303:038,22[A  ]| "Yes.  And I shall always lose that$6#2$ way.  I can not
303:038,23[A  ]| piggle with those draughtsmen dodges."
303:038,24[C  ]| "Ah well, if I can win that$6#2$ way, I have to$9$ do it.  I
303:038,25[C  ]| do not know the game as well as you do," 
303:038,25['  ]| said Jack.  And
303:038,26['  ]| there was a quiet sense of victory, "done you down," in$4$
303:038,27['  ]| his tones.  Somers required all his dignity not to$9$ become
303:038,28['  ]| angry.  But he shrugged his shoulders.
303:038,29['  ]| Sometimes, too, if he suggested a game, Callcott would
303:038,30['  ]| object that$3$ he had something he must do.  Lovat took the
303:038,31['  ]| slight rebuff without troubling.  Then an hour or an hour
303:038,32['  ]| and a half later, Callcott would come tapping at the door,
303:038,33['  ]| and would enter saying:
303:038,34[C  ]| "Well, if you are ready for$4$ a game."
303:038,35['  ]| And Lovat would unsuspectingly acquiesce.  But on$4$
303:038,36['  ]| these occasions Jack had been silently, secretly accumulating
303:038,37['  ]| his forces; there was a silence, almost a stealth in$4$
303:038,38['  ]| his game.  And at the same time his bearing was soft as
303:039,01['  ]| it were submissive, and Somers was put quite off guard.
303:039,02['  ]| He began to$9$ play with his usual freedom.  And then Jack
303:039,03['  ]| wiped the floor with his little neighbour:  simply wiped the
303:039,04['  ]| floor with him, and left him gasping.  One, two, three
303:039,05['  ]| games ~~ it was the same every time.
303:039,06[A  ]| "But I can not see the board," 
303:039,06['  ]| cried Somers, startled.
303:039,07[A  ]| "I can hardly distinguish black from white."
303:039,08['  ]| He was really distressed.  It was true what he said.
303:039,09['  ]| He was as if stupefied, as if some drug had been injected
303:039,10['  ]| straight into his brain.  For$4$ his life he could not gather
303:039,11['  ]| his consciousness together ~~ not till he realised the state he
303:039,12['  ]| was in$4$.  And then he refused to$9$ try.  Jack gave a quiet
303:039,13['  ]| little laugh.  There was on$4$ his face a subtle little smile of
303:039,14['  ]| satisfaction.  
303:039,14@c   | He had done his high-flying opponent down.
303:039,15@c   | He was the better man.
303:039,16['  ]| After the first evening that$3$ this had taken place, Somers
303:039,17['  ]| was much more wary of his neighbour, much less ready to$9$
303:039,18['  ]| open towards him than he had been.  \He\ \never\ \again\ 
303:039,19['  ]| \invited\ \Jack\ \to$4$\ \a\ \game\ \of\ \chess\.  And when Callcott suggested
303:039,20['  ]| a game, Somers played, but coldly, without the
303:039,21['  ]| recklessness and the laughter which$6#1$ were the chief charm
303:039,22['  ]| of his game.  And Jack was once more snubbed, put back
303:039,23['  ]| into second place.  Then once he was reduced, Somers
303:039,24['  ]| began to$9$ relent, and the old guerilla warfare started again.
303:039,25['  ]| The moment Somers heard this question of Jack's:
303:039,26[C  ]| "What do you think of things in$4$ general?" ~~ 
303:039,26['  ]| he went on$4$
303:039,27['  ]| his guard.
303:039,28[A  ]| "The man is trying to$9$ draw me, to$9$ fool me," 
303:039,28['  ]| he said
303:039,29['  ]| to$4$ himself.  He knew by$4$ a certain quiet, almost sly intention
303:039,30['  ]| in$4$ Jack's voice, and a certain false deference in$4$ his
303:039,31['  ]| bearing.  It was this false deference he was most wary of.
303:039,32@a   | This was the Judas approach.
303:039,33[A  ]| "How in$4$ general?"  
303:039,33['  ]| he asked.  
303:039,33[A  ]| "Do you mean the
303:039,34[A  ]| cosmos?"
303:039,35[C  ]| "No$7$," 
303:039,35['  ]| said Jack, foiled in$4$ his first move.  He had been
303:039,36['  ]| through the Australian high-school course, and was accustomed
303:039,37['  ]| to$9$ think for$4$ himself.  Over a great field he was
303:039,38['  ]| quite indifferent to$4$ thought, and hostile to$4$ consciousness.
303:039,39['  ]| It seemed to$4$ him more manly to$9$ be unconscious, even
303:039,40['  ]| blank, to$4$ most of the great questions.  But on$4$ his own
303:039,41['  ]| subjects, Australian politics, Japan, and machinery, he
303:039,42['  ]| thought straight and manly enough.  And when he met a
303:040,01['  ]| man whose being puzzled him, he wanted to$9$ get at the
303:040,02['  ]| bottom of that$6#2$, too.  He looked up$5$ at Somers with a
303:040,03['  ]| searching, penetrating, inimical look, that$6#1$ he tried to$9$ cover
303:040,04['  ]| with an appearance of false deference.  For$3$ he was always
303:040,05['  ]| aware of the big empty spaces of his own consciousness;
303:040,06['  ]| like$4$ his country, a vast empty "desert" at the centre of
303:040,07['  ]| him.
303:040,08[C  ]| "No$7$," 
303:040,08['  ]| he repeated.  
303:040,08[C  ]| "I mean the world ~~ economics
303:040,09[C  ]| and politics.  The welfare of the world."
303:040,10[A  ]| "It is no$2$ good asking me," 
303:040,10['  ]| said Somers.  
303:040,10[A  ]| "Since the
303:040,11[A  ]| war burst my bubble of humanity I am a pessimist, a black
303:040,12[A  ]| pessimist about the present human world."
303:040,13[C  ]| "You think it is going to$4$ the bad?"  
303:040,13['  ]| said Jack, still
303:040,14['  ]| drawing him with the appearance of deference, of
303:040,15['  ]| waiting to$9$ hear.
303:040,16[A  ]| "Yes, I do.  Faster or slower.  Probably I shall never
303:040,17[A  ]| see any great change in$4$ my lifetime, but the tendency is
303:040,18[A  ]| all downhill, in$4$ my opinion.  But then I am a pessimist,
303:040,19[A  ]| so$3$ you need not bother about my opinion."
303:040,20['  ]| Somers wanted to$9$ let it all go at that$6#2$.  But Callcott
303:040,21['  ]| persisted.
303:040,22[C  ]| "Do you think there will$1$ be more wars?  Do you think
303:040,23[C  ]| Germany will$1$ be in$4$ a position to$9$ fight again very soon?"
303:040,24[A  ]| "Bah, you bolster up$5$ an old bogey out here.  Germany
303:040,25[A  ]| is the bogey of yesterday, not of to-morrow."
303:040,26[C  ]| "She frightened us out of our sleep before," 
303:040,26['  ]| said Jack,
303:040,27['  ]| resentful.
303:040,28[A  ]| "And now, for$4$ the time being, she is done.  As a war-machine
303:040,29[A  ]| she is done, and done for*ever.  So$5#1$ much scrap-iron,
303:040,30[A  ]| her iron fist."
303:040,31[C  ]| "You think so$5#2$?"  
303:040,31['  ]| said Jack, with all the animosity of a
303:040,32['  ]| returned hero who$6#1$ wants to$9$ think his old enemy the one
303:040,33['  ]| and only bugbear, and who$6#1$ feels quite injured if you tell
303:040,34['  ]| him there is no$2$ more point in$4$ his old hate.
303:040,35[A  ]| "That$6#2$ is my opinion.  Of course I may be wrong."
303:040,36[C  ]| "Yes, you may," 
303:040,36['  ]| said Jack.
303:040,37[A  ]| "Sure," 
303:040,37['  ]| said Somers.  And there was silence.  This
303:040,38['  ]| time Somers smiled a little to$4$ himself.
303:040,39[C  ]| "And what do you consider, then, is the bogey of to-morrow?"
303:040,40['  ]| asked Jack at length, in$4$ a rather small,
303:040,41['  ]| unwilling voice.
303:040,42[A  ]| "I do not really know.  What should you say?"
303:041,01[C  ]| "Me?  I wanted to$9$ hear what you have to$9$ say."
303:041,02[A  ]| "And I would rather hear what you have to$9$ say," 
303:041,02['  ]| laughed
303:041,03['  ]| Somers.
303:041,04['  ]| There was a pause.  Jack seemed to$9$ be pondering.  At
303:041,05['  ]| last he came out with his bluff, manly Australian self.
303:041,06[C  ]| "If you ask me," 
303:041,06['  ]| he said, 
303:041,06[C  ]| "I should say that$3$ Labour is
303:041,07[C  ]| the bogey you speak of."
303:041,08['  ]| Again Somers knew that$3$ this was a draw.  
303:041,08@a   | "He wants
303:041,09@a   | to$9$ find out if I am socialist or anti,"  
303:041,09['  ]| he thought to$4$ himself.
303:041,10[A  ]| "You think Labour is a menace to$4$ society?"   
303:041,10['  ]| he
303:041,11['  ]| returned.
303:041,12[C  ]| "Well," 
303:041,12['  ]| Jack hedged.  
303:041,12[C  ]| "I will$1$ not say that$3$ Labour is
303:041,13[C  ]| the menace, exactly.  Perhaps the state of affairs forces
303:041,14[C  ]| Labour to$9$ be the menace."
303:041,15[A  ]| "Oh, quite.  But what is the state of affairs?"
303:041,16[C  ]| "That$6#2$ is what nobody seems to$9$ know."
303:041,17[A  ]| "So$3$ it is quite safe to$9$ lay the blame on$4$," 
303:041,17['  ]| laughed
303:041,18['  ]| Somers.  He looked with real dislike at the other man, who$6#1$
303:041,19['  ]| sat silent and piqued and rather diminished:  
303:041,19[A  ]| "Coming
303:041,20[A  ]| here just to$9$ draw me and get to$9$ know what is inside me!"
303:041,21['  ]| he said to$4$ himself angrily.  And he would carry the conversation
303:041,22['  ]| no$2$ further.  He would not even offer Jack a
303:041,23['  ]| whisky and soda.  
303:041,22@a   | "No$7$," 
303:041,22['  ]| he thought to$4$ himself.  
303:041,22@a   | "If
303:041,24@a   | he trespasses on$4$ my hospitality, coming creeping in$4$ here,
303:041,25@a   | into my house, just to$9$ draw me and get the better of me,
303:041,26@a   | underhandedly, then I will$1$ pour no$2$ drink for$4$ him.  He can
303:041,27@a   | go back to$4$ where he came from."  
303:041,27['  ]| But Somers was mistaken.
303:041,28['  ]| He only did not understand Jack's way of leaving
303:041,29['  ]| seven-tenths of himself out of any intercourse.  Richard
303:041,30['  ]| wanted the whole man there, openly.  And Jack wanted
303:041,31['  ]| his own way, of seven-tenths left out.
303:041,32['  ]| So$3$ that$3$ after a while Jack rose slowly, saying:
303:041,33[C  ]| "Well, I will$1$ be turning in$5$.  It is work to-morrow for$4$
303:041,34[C  ]| some of us."
303:041,35[A  ]| "If we are lucky enough to$9$ have jobs," 
303:041,35['  ]| laughed Somers.
303:041,36[C  ]| "Or luckier still, to$9$ have the money so$3$ that$3$ we do not
303:041,37[C  ]| need a job," 
303:041,37['  ]| returned Jack.
303:041,38[A  ]| "Think how bored most folks would be on$4$ a little money
303:041,39[A  ]| and no$2$ settled occupation," 
303:041,39['  ]| said Somers.
303:041,40[C  ]| "Yes, I might be myself," 
303:041,40['  ]| said Jack, honestly admitting
303:041,41['  ]| it, and at the same time slightly despising the man who$6#1$
303:041,42['  ]| had no$2$ job, and therefore no$2$ significance in$4$ life.
303:042,01[A  ]| "Why, of course."
303:042,02['  ]| When Callcott came over to$4$ Torestin, either Victoria
303:042,03['  ]| came with him, or she invited Harriet across to$4$ Wyewurk.
303:042,04['  ]| Wyewurk was the name of Jack's bungalow.  It had been
303:042,05['  ]| built by$4$ a man who$6#1$ had inherited from an aunt a modest
303:042,06['  ]| income, and who$6#1$ had written thus permanently his retort
303:042,07['  ]| against society on$4$ his door.
303:042,08[C  ]| "Wyewurk?"  
303:042,08['  ]| said Jack.  
303:042,08[C  ]| "Because you have jolly well
303:042,09[C  ]| got to$9$."
303:042,10['  ]| The neighbours nearly always spoke of their respective
303:042,11['  ]| homes by$4$ their elegant names.  
303:042,11[C  ]| "Will$1$ not Mrs*Somers go
303:042,12[C  ]| across to$4$ Wyewurk, Vicky says.  She is making a blouse
303:042,13[C  ]| or something, sewing some old bits of rag together ~~ or new
303:042,14[C  ]| bits ~~ and I expect she will$1$ need a pageful of advice about it."
303:042,15['  ]| This was what Jack had said.  Harriet had gone with
303:042,16['  ]| apparent alacrity, but with real resentment.  She had
303:042,17['  ]| never in$4$ all her life had "neighbours," and she did not
303:042,18['  ]| know what neighbouring really meant.  She did not care for$4$
303:042,19['  ]| it, on$4$ trial.  Not after she and Victoria had said and heard
303:042,20['  ]| most of the things they wanted to$9$ say and hear.  But they
303:042,21['  ]| liked each other also.  And though Victoria could be a
303:042,22['  ]| terribly venomous little cat, once she unsheathed her claws
303:042,23['  ]| and became rather "common," still, so$5#1$ long as her claws
303:042,24['  ]| were sheathed her paws were quite velvety and pretty,
303:042,25['  ]| she was winsome and charming to$4$ Harriet, a bit deferential
303:042,26['  ]| before her, which$6#1$ flattered the other woman.  And
303:042,27['  ]| then, lastly, Victoria had quite a decent piano, and played
303:042,28['  ]| nicely, whereas Harriet had a good voice, and played
303:042,29['  ]| badly.  So$3$ that$3$ often, as the two men played chess or had
303:042,30['  ]| one of their famous encounters, they would hear Harriet's
303:042,31['  ]| strong, clear voice singing Schubert or Schumann or French
303:042,32['  ]| or English folk songs, whilst Victoria played.  And both
303:042,33['  ]| women were happy, because though Victoria was fond of
303:042,34['  ]| music and had an instinct for$4$ it, her knowledge of songs
303:042,35['  ]| was slight, and to$9$ be learning these old English and old
303:042,36['  ]| French melodies, as well as the German and the Italian
303:042,37['  ]| songs, was a real adventure and a pleasure to$4$ her.
303:042,38['  ]| They were still singing when Jack returned.
303:042,39[C  ]| "Still at it!"  
303:042,39['  ]| he said manfully, from the background,
303:042,40['  ]| chewing his little pipe.
303:042,41['  ]| Harriet looked round.  She was just finishing the joyous
303:042,42['  ]| moan of \9Plaisir*d'amour\, a song she loved because it
303:043,01['  ]| tickled her so$5#2$.  
303:043,01[B  ]| "\9Dure\ \9toute\ \9la\ \9vie-i-i-ie-i-e\," 
303:043,01['  ]| she
303:043,02['  ]| sang the concluding words at him, laughing in$4$ his face.
303:043,03[B  ]| "You are back early," 
303:043,03['  ]| she said.
303:043,04[C  ]| "Felt a mental twilight coming on$5$," 
303:043,04['  ]| he said, 
303:043,04[C  ]| "so$3$
303:043,05[C  ]| thought we had better close down for$4$ the night."
303:043,06['  ]| Harriet divined that$3$, to$9$ use her expression, Somers had
303:043,07['  ]| been "disagreeable to$4$ him."
303:043,08[B  ]| "Do not you sing?"  
303:043,08['  ]| she cried.
303:043,09[C  ]| "Me!  Have you ever heard a cow at a gate when she
303:043,10[C  ]| wants to$9$ come in$5$ and be milked?"
303:043,11[D  ]| "Oh, he does!"  
303:043,11['  ]| cried Victoria.  
303:043,11[D  ]| "He sang a duet at
303:043,12[D  ]| the Harbour*Lights Concert."
303:043,13[B  ]| "There!"  
303:043,13['  ]| cried Harriet.  
303:043,13[B  ]| "How exciting!  What duet
303:043,14[B  ]| did he sing?"
303:043,15[D  ]| "Larboard*Watch*Ahoy!"
303:043,16[B  ]| "Oh!  Oh!  I know that$6#2$," 
303:043,16['  ]| cried Harriet, remembering
303:043,17['  ]| a farmer friend of Somers', who$6#1$ had initiated her into the
303:043,18['  ]| thrilling harmony, down in$4$ Cornwall.
303:043,19[C  ]| "There was not a soul left in$4$ the hall, when we had finished,
303:043,20[C  ]| except Victoria and the other chap's wife," 
303:043,20['  ]| said Jack.
303:043,21[D  ]| "Oh, what a fib.  They applauded like$4$ anything, and
303:043,22[D  ]| made you give an \9encore\."
303:043,23[C  ]| "Ay, and we did not know another bally duet between
303:043,24[C  ]| us so$3$ we had to$9$ sing Larboard*Watch over again.  It was
303:043,25[C  ]| Larboard*Alarum*Clock by$4$ the time we got to$4$ the end of
303:043,26[C  ]| it, it went off with such a rattle."
303:043,27[B  ]| "Oh, do let us sing it," 
303:043,27['  ]| said Harriet.  
303:043,27[B  ]| "You must
303:043,28[B  ]| help me when I go wrong, because I do not know it
303:043,29[B  ]| well."
303:043,30[C  ]| "What part do you want to$9$ sing?"  
303:043,30['  ]| said Jack.
303:043,31[B  ]| "Oh, I sing the first part."
303:043,32[C  ]| "Nay," 
303:043,32['  ]| said Jack.  
303:043,32[C  ]| "I sing that$6#2$ part myself.  I am a
303:043,33[C  ]| high tenor, I am, once I get the wind up$5$."
303:043,34[B  ]| "I could not possibly sing the alto," 
303:043,34['  ]| said Harriet.
303:043,35[D  ]| "Oh, Jack do sing the alto," 
303:043,35['  ]| said Victoria.  
303:043,35[D  ]| "Go on$5$,
303:043,36[D  ]| do!  I will$1$ help you."
303:043,37[C  ]| "Oh well, if you will$1$ go bail for$4$ me, I do not care what I
303:043,38[C  ]| do," 
303:043,38['  ]| said Jack.
303:043,39['  ]| And very shortly Somers heard a gorgeous uproar in$4$
303:043,40['  ]| Wyewurk.  Harriet breaking down occasionally, and
303:043,41['  ]| being picked up$5$.  She insisted on$4$ keeping on$5$ till she had it
303:043,42['  ]| perfect, and the other two banged and warbled away with
303:044,01['  ]| no$2$ signs of fatigue.  So$3$ that$3$ they were still hailing the
303:044,02['  ]| Larboard*Watch*Ahoy when the clock struck eleven.
303:044,03['  ]| Then when silence did ensue for$4$ a moment, Mrs*Callcott
303:044,04['  ]| came flying over to$4$ Torestin.
303:044,05[D  ]| "Oh, Mr*Somers, will$1$ not you come and have a drink with
303:044,06[D  ]| Jack?  Mrs*Somers is having a glass of hop bitters."
303:044,07['  ]| When Somers entered the living*room of Wyewurk, Jack
303:044,08['  ]| looked up$5$ at him with a smile and a glow in$4$ his dark eyes,
303:044,09['  ]| almost like$4$ love.
303:044,10[C  ]| "Beer?"  
303:044,10['  ]| he said.
303:044,11[A  ]| "What is the alternative?"
303:044,12[C  ]| "Nothing but gas-water."
303:044,13[A  ]| "Then beer."
303:044,14['  ]| Harriet and Victoria were still at the piano, excitedly
303:044,15['  ]| talking songs.  Harriet was teaching Victoria to$9$ pronounce
303:044,16['  ]| the words of a Schubert song:  for$3$ there was still one person
303:044,17['  ]| in$4$ the world unacquainted with "6Du 6bist 6wie 6eine
303:044,18['  ]| 6Blume."  And Victoria was singing it in$4$ a wavering, shy
303:044,19['  ]| little voice.
303:044,20[C  ]| "Let us drink our beer by$4$ the kitchen fire," 
303:044,20['  ]| said Jack.
303:044,21[C  ]| "Then we shall be able to$9$ hear ourselves speak, which$6#1$ is
303:044,22[C  ]| more than we can do in$4$ this aviary."
303:044,23['  ]| Somers solemnly followed into the tiny kitchen, and they
303:044,24['  ]| sat in$4$ front of the still hot stove.
303:044,25[C  ]| "The women will$1$ keep up$5$ the throat-stretching for$4$ quite
303:044,26[C  ]| a time yet," 
303:044,26['  ]| said Jack.
303:044,27[A  ]| "If we let them.  It is getting late."
303:044,28[C  ]| "Oh, I have just started my second awakening ~~ feel as
303:044,29[C  ]| sharp as a new tin-tack."
303:044,30[C  ]| "Talking about pessimism," 
303:044,30['  ]| he resumed after a pause.
303:044,31[C  ]| "There is some of us here that$6#1$ feels things are pretty shaky,
303:044,32[C  ]| you know."  
303:044,32['  ]| He spoke in$4$ a subdued, important sort of
303:044,33['  ]| voice.
303:044,34[A  ]| "What is shaky ~~ Australian finance?"
303:044,35[C  ]| "Ay, Australian everything."
303:044,36[A  ]| "Well, it is pretty much the same in$4$ every country.
303:044,37[A  ]| Where there is such a lot of black smoke there is not a very
303:044,38[A  ]| big fire.  The world has been going to$4$ the dogs ever since
303:044,39[A  ]| it started to$9$ toddle, apparently."
303:044,40[C  ]| "Ay, I suppose it has.  But it will$1$ get there one day.
303:044,41[C  ]| At least Australia will$1$."
303:044,42[A  ]| "What kind of dogs?"
303:045,01[C  ]| "Maybe financial smash, and then hell to$9$ pay all round.
303:045,02[C  ]| Maybe, you know.  We have got to$9$ think about it."
303:045,03['  ]| Somers watched him for$4$ some moments with serious
303:045,04['  ]| eyes.  
303:045,04@a   | Jack seemed as if he were a little bit drunk.  Yet
303:045,05@a   | he had only drunk a glass of lager beer.  He was not drunk.
303:045,06@a   | But his face had changed, it had a kind of eagerness, and
303:045,07@a   | his eyes glowed big.  Strange, he seemed, as if in$4$ a slight
303:045,08@a   | ecstasy.
303:045,09[A  ]| "It may be," 
303:045,09['  ]| said Somers slowly.  
303:045,09[A  ]| "I am neither a
303:045,10[A  ]| financier nor a politician.  It seems as if the next thing to$9$
303:045,11[A  ]| come a cropper were capital:  now there are no$2$ more kings
303:045,12[A  ]| to$9$ speak of.  It may be the middle classes are coming
303:045,13[A  ]| smash ~~ which$6#1$ is the same thing as finance ~~ as capital.
303:045,14[A  ]| But also it may not be.  I have given up$5$ trying to$9$ know."
303:045,15[C  ]| "What will$1$ be will$1$ be, eh," 
303:045,15['  ]| said Jack with a smile.
303:045,16[A  ]| "I suppose so$5#2$, in$4$ this matter."
303:045,17[C  ]| "Ay, but, look here, I believe it is right what you say.
303:045,18[C  ]| The middle classes \are\ coming down.  What do they sit
303:045,19[C  ]| on$4$? ~~ they sit on$4$ money, on$4$ capital.  And this country is
303:045,20[C  ]| as good as bankrupt, so$3$ then what have they left to$9$ stand
303:045,21[C  ]| on$4$?"
303:045,22[A  ]| "They say most countries are really bankrupt.  But if
303:045,23[A  ]| they agree among themselves to$9$ carry on$5$, the word does not
303:045,24[A  ]| amount to$4$ much."
303:045,25[C  ]| "Oh, but it does.  It amounts to$4$ a hull of a lot, here
303:045,26[C  ]| in$4$ this country.  If it ever came to$4$ the push, and the state
303:045,27[C  ]| was bankrupt, there would be no$2$ holding New*South*Wales in$5$."
303:045,28[A  ]| "The state never will$1$ be bankrupt."
303:045,29[C  ]| "Will$1$ not it?  Will$1$ not there be a financial smash, a proper
303:045,30[C  ]| cave in$5$, before we are much older?  Will$1$ not there?  We will$1$
303:045,31[C  ]| see.  But look here, do you care if there is?"
303:045,32[A  ]| "I do not know what it means, so$3$ I can not say.  Theoretically
303:045,33[A  ]| I do not mind a bit if international finance goes bust:
303:045,34[A  ]| if it can go bust."
303:045,35[C  ]| "Never mind about theoretically.  You would like$1$ to$9$ see the
303:045,36[C  ]| power of money, the power of capital, \broke\.  Would you
303:045,37[C  ]| or would not you?"
303:045,38['  ]| Somers watched the excited, handsome face opposite
303:045,39['  ]| him, and answered slowly:
303:045,40[A  ]| "Theoretically, yes.  Actually, I really do not know."
303:045,41[C  ]| "Oh to$4$ hell with your theoretically.  Drown it.  Speak
303:045,42[C  ]| like$4$ a man with some feeling in$4$ your guts.  You either
303:046,01[C  ]| would or would not.  Do not leave your shirt-tail hanging
303:046,02[C  ]| out, with a theoretically.  Would you or would not you."
303:046,03['  ]| Somers laughed.
303:046,04[A  ]| "Why, yes, I would," 
303:046,04['  ]| he said, 
303:046,04[A  ]| "and be damned to$4$
303:046,05[A  ]| everything."
303:046,06[C  ]| "Shake," 
303:046,06['  ]| cried Jack, stretching over.  And he took
303:046,07['  ]| Somers' small hand between both his own.  
303:046,07[C  ]| "I knew,"
303:046,08['  ]| he said in$4$ a broken voice, 
303:046,08[C  ]| "that$3$ we was mates."
303:046,09['  ]| Somers was rather bewildered.
303:046,10[A  ]| "But you know," 
303:046,10['  ]| he said, 
303:046,10[A  ]| "I never take any part in$4$
303:046,11[A  ]| politics at all.  They are not my affair."
303:046,12[C  ]| "They are not!  They are not!  You are quite right.
303:046,13[C  ]| You are quite right, you are.  You are a damned sight too
303:046,14[C  ]| good to$9$ be mixing up$5$ in$4$ any dirty politics.  But all I want
303:046,15[C  ]| is that$3$ your feelings should be the same as mine, and they
303:046,16[C  ]| are, thank my stars, they are."
303:046,17['  ]| By$4$ this time Somers was almost scared.
303:046,18[A  ]| "But why should you care?"  
303:046,18['  ]| he said, with some
303:046,19['  ]| reserve.  The other however did not heed him.
303:046,20[C  ]| "You are not with the middle classes, as you call them,
303:046,21[C  ]| the money-men, as I call them, and I know you are not.
303:046,22[C  ]| And if you are not with them you are against them."
303:046,23[A  ]| "My father was a working-man.  I come from the
303:046,24[A  ]| working people.  My sympathy is with them, when it is
303:046,25[A  ]| with anybody, I assure you."
303:046,26['  ]| Jack stared at Somers wide-eyed, a smile gathering round
303:046,27['  ]| his mouth.
303:046,28[C  ]| "Your father was a working-man, was he?  Is that$6#2$
303:046,29[C  ]| really so$5#2$?  Well, that$6#2$ \is\ a surprise!  And yet,"  
303:046,29['  ]| he changed
303:046,30['  ]| his tone, 
303:046,30[C  ]| "no$7$, it is not.  I might have known.  Of course
303:046,31[C  ]| I might.  How should I have felt for$4$ you as I did, the
303:046,32[C  ]| very first minute I saw you, if it had not been so$5#2$.  Of
303:046,33[C  ]| course you are one of us:  same flesh and blood, same clay.
303:046,34[C  ]| Only you have had the advantages of a money-man.  But
303:046,35[C  ]| you have struck true to$4$ your flesh and blood, which$6#1$ is what
303:046,36[C  ]| most of them do not do.  They turn into so$5#1$ much dirt, like$4$
303:046,37[C  ]| the washings in$4$ the pan, a lot of dirt to$4$ a very little gold.
303:046,38[C  ]| Well, well, and your father was a working man!  And you
303:046,39[C  ]| now being as you are!  Wonderful what we may be, is not
303:046,40[C  ]| it?"
303:046,41[A  ]| "It is indeed," 
303:046,41['  ]| said Somers, who$6#1$ was infinitely more
303:046,42['  ]| amazed at the present Jack, than ever Jack could be at him.
303:047,01[C  ]| "Well, well, that$6#2$ brings us a great deal nearer than ever,
303:047,02[C  ]| that$6#2$ does," 
303:047,02['  ]| said Callcott, looking at Somers with glowing,
303:047,03['  ]| smiling eyes which$6#1$ the other man could not quite understand,
303:047,04['  ]| eyes with something desirous, and something
303:047,05['  ]| perhaps fanatical in$4$ them.  Somers could not understand.
303:047,06['  ]| As for$4$ the being brought nearer to$4$ Callcott, that$6#2$ was
303:047,07['  ]| apparently entirely a matter of Jack's own feeling.
303:047,08['  ]| Somers himself had never felt more alone and far off.  Yet
303:047,09['  ]| he trembled at the other man's strange fervour.  He
303:047,10['  ]| vibrated helplessly in$4$ some sort of troubled response.
303:047,11['  ]| The vibration from the two men had by$4$ this time quite
303:047,12['  ]| penetrated into the other room and into the consciousness
303:047,13['  ]| of the two women.  Harriet came in$5$ all wondering and full
303:047,14['  ]| of alert curiosity.  She looked from one to$4$ the other, saw
303:047,15['  ]| the eyes of both men shining, saw the puzzled, slightly
303:047,16['  ]| scared look on$4$ her husband's face, and the glowing handsomeness
303:047,17['  ]| on$4$ Jack's, and she wondered more than ever.
303:047,18[B  ]| "What are you two men talking about?"  
303:047,18['  ]| she asked
303:047,19['  ]| pointedly.  
303:047,19[B  ]| "You look very much moved about something."
303:047,20[B  ]|
303:047,21[C  ]| "Moved!"  
303:047,21['  ]| laughed Jack.  
303:047,21[C  ]| "We are doing fifty miles
303:047,22[C  ]| an hour, and not turning a hair."
303:047,23[B  ]| "I am glad I am not going with you then," 
303:047,23['  ]| said Harriet.
303:047,24[B  ]| "It is much too late at night for$4$ me for$4$ that$6#2$ sort of
303:047,25[B  ]| thing."
303:047,26['  ]| Victoria went over to$4$ her husband and stood close at his
303:047,27['  ]| side ruffling up$5$ his brown, short, crisp, bright hair.
303:047,28[D  ]| "Does not he talk nonsense, Mrs*Somers, does not he talk
303:047,29[D  ]| nonsense," 
303:047,29['  ]| the young wife crooned, in$4$ her singing, contralto
303:047,30['  ]| voice, as she looked down at him.
303:047,31['  ]| Harriet started at the sudden revelation of palpitating
303:047,32['  ]| intimacy.  She wanted to$9$ go away, quick.  So$5#2$ did Somers.
303:047,33['  ]| But neither Jack nor Victoria wanted them to$9$ go.
303:047,34['  ]| Jack was looking up$5$ at Victoria with a curious smile,
303:047,35['  ]| touched with a leer.  It gave his face, his rather long,
303:047,36['  ]| clean-shaven face with the thick eyebrows, most extraordinarily
303:047,37['  ]| the look of an old mask.  One of those old
303:047,38['  ]| Greek masks that$6#1$ give a fixed mockery to$4$ every feeling.
303:047,39['  ]| Leering up$5$ at his young wife with the hearty leer of a
303:047,40['  ]| player masked as a faun that$6#1$ is at home, on$4$ its own ground.
303:047,41['  ]| Both Harriet and Somers felt amazed, as if they had
303:047,42['  ]| strayed into the wrong wood.
303:048,01[C  ]| "You talk all the sense, do not you, kiddie?"  
303:048,01['  ]| he said,
303:048,02['  ]| with a strong Australian accent again.  And as he spoke
303:048,03['  ]| with his face upturned to$4$ her, his Adam's apple moved in$4$
303:048,04['  ]| his strong white throat as if it chuckled.
303:048,05[D  ]| "Of course I do," 
303:048,05['  ]| she crooned in$4$ her mocking, crooning
303:048,06['  ]| contralto.  
303:048,06[D  ]| "Of course I do."
303:048,07['  ]| He put his arm round her hips.  They continued to$9$ look
303:048,08['  ]| into each other's faces.
303:048,09[B  ]| "It is awfully late.  We shall have simply to$9$ fly to$4$ bed.
303:048,10[B  ]| I am so$5#1$ sleepy now.  Good-night.  Thank you so$5#1$ much for$4$
303:048,11[B  ]| the singing.  I enjoyed it awfully.  Good-night!"
303:048,12['  ]| Victoria looked up$5$ with a brightly-flushed face, entirely
303:048,13['  ]| unashamed, her eyes glowing like$4$ an animal's.  Jack
303:048,14['  ]| relaxed his grip of her, but did not rise.  He looked at the
303:048,15['  ]| Somers pair with eyes gone dusky, as if unseeing, and the
303:048,16['  ]| mask-like smile lingering on$4$ his face like$4$ the reflection
303:048,17['  ]| from some fire, curiously natural, not even grotesque.
303:048,18[C  ]| "Find your way across all right?"  
303:048,18['  ]| he said.  
303:048,18[C  ]| "Good-night!
303:048,19[C  ]| Good-night!"  
303:048,19['  ]| But he was an unaware of them,
303:048,20['  ]| actually, as if they did not exist within his ken.
303:048,21[B  ]| "Well," 
303:048,21['  ]| said Harriet, as they closed the door of
303:048,22['  ]| Torestin.  
303:048,22[B  ]| "I think they might have waited just \two\
303:048,23[B  ]| minutes before they started their love*making.  After all,
303:048,24[B  ]| one does not want to$9$ be implicated, does one?"
303:048,25[A  ]| "One emphatically does not," 
303:048,25['  ]| said Somers.
303:048,26[B  ]| "Really, it was as if he had got his arm round all the four
303:048,27[B  ]| of us!  Horrid!"  
303:048,27['  ]| said Harriet resentfully.
303:048,28[A  ]| "He felt he had, I am sure," 
303:048,28['  ]| said Somers.
303:048,29['  ]| It was a period when Sydney was again suffering from a
303:048,30['  ]| bubonic plague scare:  a very mild scare, some fifteen cases
303:048,31['  ]| to$4$ a million people, according to$4$ the newspapers.  But the
303:048,32['  ]| town was placarded with notices 
303:048,32[Z  ]| "Keep your town clean,"
303:048,33['  ]| and there was a stall in$4$ Martin*Place where you could write
303:048,34['  ]| your name down and become a member of a cleanliness
303:048,35['  ]| league, or something to$4$ that$6#2$ effect.
303:048,36['  ]| The battle was against rats, fleas, and dirt.  The plague
303:048,37['  ]| affects rats first, said the notices, then fleas, and then man.
303:048,38['  ]| All citizens were called upon$5$ to$9$ wage war with the vermin
303:048,39['  ]| menioned.  Alas, there was no$2$ need to$9$ call on$4$ Somers to$9$
303:048,40['  ]| wage the war.  The first morning they had awakened in$4$
303:048,41['  ]| Torestin, it was to$4$ a slight uneasy feeling of uncleanliness.
303:048,42['  ]| Harriet, who$6#1$ hated the thought of contamination, found
303:049,01['  ]| the apples gnawed, when she went to$9$ take one to$9$ eat before
303:049,02['  ]| breakfast.  
303:049,02@c   | And rat dirts, 
303:049,02['  ]| she said, 
303:049,02@c   | everywhere.
303:049,03['  ]| Then had started such a cleaning, such a scouring, such
303:049,04['  ]| a stopping of holes, as Torestin had never known.  Somers
303:049,05['  ]| sourly re-christened the house Toscrubin.  And after that$6#2$,
303:049,06['  ]| every night he had the joyful business of setting two rat-traps,
303:049,07['  ]| those traps with the powerful fly-back springs.
303:049,08['  ]| Which$6#1$ springs were a holy terror to$4$ him, for$3$ he knew his
303:049,09['  ]| fingers would break like$4$ pipe-stems if the spring flew back
303:049,10['  ]| on$4$ them.  And almost every morning he had the nauseous
303:049,11['  ]| satisfaction of finding a rat pinned by$4$ its nose in$4$ the trap,
303:049,12['  ]| its eyes bulging out, a blot of deep red blood just near.
303:049,13['  ]| Sometimes two rats.  They were not really ugly, save for$4$
303:049,14['  ]| their tails.  Smallish rats, perhaps only half grown, and
303:049,15['  ]| with black, silky fur.  Not like$4$ the brown rats he had
303:049,16['  ]| known in$4$ the English country.
303:049,17['  ]| But big or little, ugly or not ugly, they were very objectionable
303:049,18['  ]| to$4$ him, and he hated to$9$ have to$9$ start the day by$4$
303:049,19['  ]| casting one or more corpses gingerly, by$4$ the tip of the tail,
303:049,20['  ]| into the garbage tin.  He railed against the practice of
303:049,21['  ]| throwing cans and everything promiscuously on$5$ to$4$ any bit
303:049,22['  ]| of waste ground.  It seemed to$4$ his embittered fancy that$3$
303:049,23['  ]| Sydney harbour, and all the coast of New*South*Wales,
303:049,24['  ]| was moving with this pest.  It reminded him of the land
303:049,25['  ]| of Egypt, under the hand of the Lord:  plagues of mice and
303:049,26['  ]| rats and rabbits and snails and all manner of crawling
303:049,27['  ]| things.  And then he would say:  
303:049,27[A  ]| "Perhaps it must be so$5#2$
303:049,28[A  ]| in$4$ a new country."  
303:049,28['  ]| For$4$ all that$6#2$, the words 
303:049,28[A  ]| "new
303:049,29[A  ]| country" 
303:049,29['  ]| had become like$4$ acid between his teeth.  He
303:049,30['  ]| was always recalling what Flinders*Petrie says somewhere:
303:049,31@z   | "A colony is no$2$ younger than the parent country."
303:049,32['  ]| Perhaps it is even older, one step further gone.
303:049,33['  ]| This evening ~~ or rather midnight ~~ he went to$4$ the back
303:049,34['  ]| kitchen to$9$ put every scrap of any sort of food beyond rat-reach,
303:049,35['  ]| and to$9$ bait the two traps with bits of cheese-rind.
303:049,36['  ]| Then he bent back the two murderous springs, and the
303:049,37['  ]| traps were ready.  He washed his hands hard from the
303:049,38['  ]| contamination of them.  Then he went into the garden,
303:049,39['  ]| even climbed the tub-like summer-house, to$9$ have a last
303:049,40['  ]| look at the world.  There was a big slip of very bright
303:049,41['  ]| moon risen, and the harbour was faintly distinct.
303:049,42['  ]| Now that$3$ night had fallen, the wind was from the land,
303:050,01['  ]| and cold.  He turned to$9$ go indoors.  And as he did so$5#2$ he
303:050,02['  ]| heard a motor-car run quickly along the road, and saw the
303:050,03['  ]| bright lights come to$4$ a stop at the gate of Wyewurk.
303:050,04['  ]| Wyewurk was in$4$ darkness already.  But a man left the car
303:050,05['  ]| and came along the path to$4$ the house, giving a peculiar
303:050,06['  ]| whistle as he did so$5#2$.  He went round to$4$ the back door and
303:050,07['  ]| knocked sharply, once, twice, in$4$ a peculiar way.  Then he
303:050,08['  ]| whistled and knocked again.  After which$6#1$ he must have
303:050,09['  ]| heard an answer, for$3$ he waited quietly.
303:050,10['  ]| In$4$ a few minutes more the lights switched on$5$ and the
303:050,11['  ]| door opened; Jack was there in$4$ his pyjamas.
303:050,12[C  ]| "That$6#2$ you, Jaz boy?"  
303:050,12['  ]| he said in$4$ a quiet tone.  
303:050,12[C  ]| "Why
303:050,13[C  ]| the blazes did not you come half an hour sooner, or half a
303:050,14[C  ]| minute later?  You got me just as I had taken the jump, and
303:050,15[C  ]| I fell all over the bloomin' hedge.  Come in$5$.  You will$1$ make
303:050,16[C  ]| a nervous wreck of me between you."
303:050,17['  ]| The figure entered.  It was William*James, the brother-in-law.
303:050,18['  ]| Somers heard him go again in$4$ about ten minutes.
303:050,19['  ]| But Harriet did not notice.
304:051,00@@@@@|
304:051,01['  ]| The following evening Somers could feel waves of friendliness
304:051,02['  ]| coming across the hedge, from Victoria.  And she
304:051,03['  ]| kept going out to$4$ the gate to$9$ look for$4$ Jack, who$6#1$ was late
304:051,04['  ]| returning home.  And as she went, she always looked long
304:051,05['  ]| towards the verandah of Torestin, to$9$ catch sight of the
304:051,06['  ]| Somers.
304:051,07['  ]| Somers felt the yearning and amicable advance in$4$ the
304:051,08['  ]| atmosphere.  For$4$ some time he disregarded it.  Then at
304:051,09['  ]| last he went out to$9$ look at the nightfall.  It was early
304:051,10['  ]| June.  The sun had set beyond the land, casting a premature
304:051,11['  ]| shadow of night.  But the eastern sky was very
304:051,12['  ]| beautiful, full of pure, pure light, the light of the southern
304:051,13['  ]| seas, next the Antarctic.  There was a great massive cloud
304:051,14['  ]| settling low, and it was all gleaming, a golden, physical
304:051,15['  ]| glow.  Then across the upper sky trailed a thin line of little
304:051,16['  ]| dark clouds, like$4$ a line of porpoises swimming in$4$ the
304:051,17['  ]| extremely beautiful clarity.
304:051,18[D  ]| "Is not it a lovely evening again?"  
304:051,18['  ]| Victoria called to$4$
304:051,19['  ]| him as he stood on$4$ the summer-house top.
304:051,20[A  ]| "Very lovely.  Australia never ceases to$9$ be a wonderland
304:051,21[A  ]| for$4$ me, at nightfall," 
304:051,21['  ]| he answered.
304:051,22[D  ]| "Aha!"  
304:051,22['  ]| she said.  
304:051,22[D  ]| "you are fond of the evening?"
304:051,23['  ]| He had come down from his point of vantage, and they
304:051,24['  ]| stood near together by$4$ the fence.
304:051,25[A  ]| "In$4$ Europe I always like$1$ morning best ~~ much best.  I
304:051,26[A  ]| can not say what it is I find so$5#1$ magical in$4$ the evening here."
304:051,27[D  ]| "No$7$!"  
304:051,27['  ]| she replied, looking upwards round the sky.
304:051,28[D  ]| "It is going to$9$ rain."
304:051,29[A  ]| "What makes you think so$5#2$?"  
304:051,29['  ]| he asked.
304:051,30[D  ]| "It looks like$4$ it ~~ and it feels like$4$ it.  I expect Jack will$1$
304:051,31[D  ]| be here before it comes on$5$."
304:051,32[A  ]| "He is late to-night, is he?"
304:051,33[D  ]| "Yes.  He said he might be.  Is it six o'clock?"
304:051,34[A  ]| "No$7$, it is only a little after five."
304:051,35[D  ]| "Is it?  I need not be expecting him yet, then.  He
304:051,36[D  ]| will$1$ not be home till quarter past six."  
304:051,36['  ]| She was silent for$4$ a
304:051,37['  ]| while.  
304:051,37[D  ]| "We shall soon have the shortest day," 
304:051,37['  ]| she said.
304:051,38[D  ]| "I am glad when it has gone.  I always miss Jack so$5#1$ much
304:052,01[D  ]| when the evening comes, and he is not home.  You see I
304:052,02[D  ]| was used to$4$ a big family, and it seems a bit lonely for$4$ me
304:052,03[D  ]| yet, all alone in$4$ the cottage.  That$6#2$ is why we are so$5#1$ glad to$9$
304:052,04[D  ]| have you and Mrs*Somers next door.  We get on$5$ so$5#1$ well,
304:052,05[D  ]| do not we?  Yes, it is surprising.  I always felt nervous of
304:052,06[D  ]| English people before.  But I love Mrs*Somers.  I think
304:052,07[D  ]| she is lovely."
304:052,08[A  ]| "You have not been married long?"  
304:052,08['  ]| asked Somers.
304:052,09[D  ]| "Not quite a year.  It seems a long time in$4$ some ways.
304:052,10[D  ]| I would not not be with Jack, not for$4$ anything.  But I do
304:052,11[D  ]| miss my family.  We were six of us all at home together,
304:052,12[D  ]| and it makes such a difference, being all alone."
304:052,13[A  ]| "Was your home in$4$ Sydney?"
304:052,14[D  ]| "No$7$, on$4$ the South*Coast ~~ dairy-farming.  No$7$, my
304:052,15[D  ]| father was a surveyor, so$3$ was his father before him.  Both
304:052,16[D  ]| in$4$ New*South*Wales.  Then he gave it up$5$ and started this
304:052,17[D  ]| farm down south.  Oh yes, I liked it ~~ I love home.  I
304:052,18[D  ]| love going down home.  I have got a cottage down there that$6#1$
304:052,19[D  ]| father gave me when I got married.  You must come down
304:052,20[D  ]| with us some time when the people that$6#1$ are in$4$ it go.  It is
304:052,21[D  ]| right on$4$ the sea.  Do you think you and Mrs*Somers would
304:052,22[D  ]| like$1$ it?"
304:052,23[A  ]| "I am sure we should."
304:052,24[D  ]| "And will$1$ you come with us for$4$ a week-end?  The
304:052,25[D  ]| people in$4$ it are leaving next week.  We let it furnished."
304:052,26[A  ]| "We should like$1$ to$9$ very much indeed," 
304:052,26['  ]| said Somers,
304:052,27['  ]| being polite over it because he felt a little unsure still,
304:052,28['  ]| whether he wanted to$9$ be so$5#1$ intimate.  But Victoria seemed
304:052,29['  ]| so$5#1$ wistful.
304:052,30[D  ]| "We feel so$5#1$ ourselves with you and Mrs*Somers," 
304:052,30['  ]| said
304:052,31['  ]| Victoria.  
304:052,31[D  ]| "And yet you are so$5#1$ different from us, and yet
304:052,32[D  ]| we feel so$5#1$ much ourselves with you."
304:052,33[A  ]| "But we are not different," 
304:052,33['  ]| he protested.
304:052,34[D  ]| "Yes, you are ~~ coming from home.  It is mother who$6#1$
304:052,35[D  ]| always called England home.  She was English.  She
304:052,36[D  ]| always spoke so$5#1$ prettily.  She came from Somerset.  Yes,
304:052,37[D  ]| she died about five years ago.  Then I was mother of the
304:052,38[D  ]| family.  Yes, I am the eldest, except Alfred.  Yes, they are
304:052,39[D  ]| all at home.  Alfred is a mining engineer ~~ there are coal
304:052,40[D  ]| mines down the South*Coast.  He was with Jack in$4$ the
304:052,41[D  ]| war, on$4$ the same job.  Jack was a Captain and Alfred was
304:052,42[D  ]| a Lieutenant.  But they drop all the army names now.
304:053,01[D  ]| That$6#2$ is how I came to$9$ know Jack:  through Alfred.  Jack
304:053,02[D  ]| always calls him Fred."
304:053,03[A  ]| "You did not know him before the war?"
304:053,04[D  ]| "No$7$, not till he came home.  Alfred used to$9$ talk about
304:053,05[D  ]| him in$4$ his letters, but I never thought then I should marry
304:053,06[D  ]| him.  They are great friends yet, the two of them."
304:053,07['  ]| The rain that$6#1$ she had prophesied now began to$9$ fall ~~
304:053,08['  ]| big straight drops, that$6#1$ resounded on$4$ the tin roofs of the
304:053,09['  ]| houses.
304:053,10[A  ]| "Will$1$ not you come in$5$ and sit with us till Jack comes?"
304:053,11['  ]| asked Somers.  
304:053,11[A  ]| "You will$1$ feel dreary, I know."
304:053,12[D  ]| "Oh, do not think I said it for$4$ that$6#2$," 
304:053,12['  ]| said Victoria.
304:053,13[A  ]| "Come round, though," 
304:053,13['  ]| said Somers.  And they both
304:053,14['  ]| ran indoors out of the rain.  Lightning had started to$9$ stab
304:053,15['  ]| in$4$ the south-western sky, and clouds were shoving slowly
304:053,16['  ]| up$5$.
304:053,17['  ]| Victoria came round and sat talking, telling of her home
304:053,18['  ]| on$4$ the south*coast.  It was only about fifty miles from
304:053,19['  ]| Sydney, but it seemed another world to$4$ her.  She was so$5#1$
304:053,20['  ]| quiet and simple, now, that$3$ both the Somers felt drawn
304:053,21['  ]| to$4$ her, and glad that$3$ she was sitting with them.
304:053,22['  ]| They were talking still of Europe, Italy, Switzerland,
304:053,23['  ]| England, Paris ~~ the wonderworld to$4$ Victoria, who$6#1$ had
304:053,24['  ]| never been  out of New*South*Wales in$4$ her life, in$4$ spite of
304:053,25['  ]| her name ~~ which$6#1$ name her father had given her to$9$ annoy
304:053,26['  ]| all his neighbours, because he said the State of Victoria
304:053,27['  ]| was run like$4$ a paradise compared to$4$ New*South*Wales ~~
304:053,28['  ]| although he too never went a yard out of his home state,
304:053,29['  ]| if he could help it; they were talking still of Europe when
304:053,30['  ]| they heard Jack's voice calling from the opposite yard.
304:053,31[D  ]| "Hello," 
304:053,31['  ]| cried Victoria, running out.  
304:053,31[D  ]| "Are you there,
304:053,32[D  ]| Jack?  I was listening for$4$ the motor-bike.  I remember
304:053,33[D  ]| now, you went by$4$ tram."
304:053,34['  ]| Sometimes she seemed a little afraid of him ~~ physically
304:053,35['  ]| afraid ~~ though he was always perfectly good-humoured
304:053,36['  ]| with her.  And this evening she sounded like$4$ that$6#2$ ~~ as if
304:053,37['  ]| she feared his coming home, and wanted the Somers to$9$
304:053,38['  ]| shelter her.
304:053,39[C  ]| "You have found a second home over there, apparently,"
304:053,40['  ]| said Jack, advancing towards the fence.  
304:053,40[C  ]| "Well, how is
304:053,41[C  ]| things?"
304:053,42['  ]| It was dark, so$3$ they could not see his face.  But he
304:054,01['  ]| sounded different.  There was something queer, unknown
304:054,02['  ]| about him.
304:054,03[C  ]| "I will$1$ come over for$4$ a game of chess to-night, old man,
304:054,04[C  ]| if you will$1$ say the word," 
304:054,04['  ]| he said to$4$ Somers.  
304:054,04[C  ]| "And the
304:054,05[C  ]| ladies can punish the piano again meanwhile, if they feel
304:054,06[C  ]| like$4$ it.  I bought something to$9$ sweeten the melodies with,
304:054,07[C  ]| and give us a sort of breathing-space now and then:  sort
304:054,08[C  ]| of little ear-rest, you know."
304:054,09[D  ]| "That$6#2$ means a pound of chocolates," 
304:054,09['  ]| said Victoria, like$4$
304:054,10['  ]| a greedy child.  
304:054,10[D  ]| "And Mrs*Somers will$1$ come and help me
304:054,11[D  ]| to$9$ eat them.  Good!"  
304:054,11['  ]| And she ran in$5$ home.  Somers
304:054,12['  ]| thought of a picture advertisement in$4$ the \Bulletin\:
304:054,13[Z  ]| "\Madge\:  I can not think what you see in$4$ Jack.  He is so$5#1$
304:054,14[Z  ]| unintellectual."
304:054,15[Z  ]| "\Gladys\:  Oh, but he always brings a pound of Billyer's
304:054,16[Z  ]| chocolates."
304:054,17['  ]| Or else:  
304:054,17[Z  ]| "Sweets to$4$ the Sweet.  Give her Billyer's
304:054,18[Z  ]| chocolates"; 
304:054,18['  ]| or else:  
304:054,18[Z  ]| "Billyer's chocolates sweeten
304:054,19[Z  ]| home."
304:054,20['  ]| The game of chess was a very quiet one.  
304:054,20@a   | Jack was pale
304:054,21@a   | and subdued, silent, tired, 
304:054,21['  ]| thought Somers, 
304:054,21@a   | after his long
304:054,22@a   | day and short night.  
304:054,22['  ]| Somers too played without any zest.
304:054,23['  ]| And yet they were satisfied, just sitting there together, a
304:054,24['  ]| curious peaceful ease in$4$ being together.  Somers wondered
304:054,25['  ]| at it, the rich, full peace that$6#1$ there seemed to$9$ be between
304:054,26['  ]| him and the other man.  It was something he was not
304:054,27['  ]| used to$9$.  As if one blood ran warm and rich between
304:054,28['  ]| them.  
304:054,28@z   | "Then shall thy peace be as a river."
304:054,29[A  ]| "There was something wrong at the Trewhella's, was there,
304:054,30[A  ]| that$6#1$ made William*James come so$5#1$ late?"  
304:054,30['  ]| asked Somers.
304:054,31['  ]| Jack looked up$5$ with a tinge of inquiry in$4$ his dark eyes
304:054,32['  ]| at this question:  as if he suspected something behind it.
304:054,33['  ]| Somers flushed slightly.
304:054,34[C  ]| "No$7$, nothing wrong," 
304:054,34['  ]| said Jack.
304:054,35[A  ]| "I beg your pardon for$4$ asking," 
304:054,35['  ]| said Somers hastily.
304:054,36[A  ]| "I heard a whistle when I had just done setting the rat-traps,
304:054,37[A  ]| and I looked out, and heard you speak to$4$ him.
304:054,38[A  ]| That$6#2$ is how I knew who$6#1$ it was.  I only wondered if anything
304:054,39[A  ]| was wrong."
304:054,40[C  ]| "No$7$, nothing wrong," 
304:054,40['  ]| repeated Jack laconically.
304:054,41[A  ]| "That$6#2$ is all right," 
304:054,41['  ]| said Somers.  
304:054,41[A  ]| "It is your move.
304:054,42[A  ]| Mind your queen."
304:055,01[C  ]| "Mind my queen, eh?  She takes some minding, that$6#2$
304:055,02[C  ]| lady does.  I feel I need a special eye at the end of my
304:055,03[C  ]| nose, to$9$ keep track of her.  Come out of it, old lady.  I am
304:055,04[C  ]| not very bright at handling royalty, that$6#2$ is a fact."
304:055,05['  ]| Somers was now silent.  He felt he had made a \9faux*pas\,
304:055,06['  ]| and was rebuffed.  They played for$4$ some time, Jack
304:055,07['  ]| talking to$4$ himself mostly in$4$ that$6#2$ facetious strain  which$6#1$ one
304:055,08['  ]| just had to$9$ get used to$4$ in$4$ him, though Somers occasionally
304:055,09['  ]| found it tiring.
304:055,10['  ]| Then after a time Jack put his hands into his lap, and
304:055,11['  ]| looked up$5$ at Somers.
304:055,12[C  ]| "You must not think I get the wind up$5$, you know," 
304:055,12['  ]| he
304:055,13['  ]| said, 
304:055,13[C  ]| "if you ask me a question.  You can ask me what
304:055,14[C  ]| you like$1$, you know.  And when I can tell you, I will$1$ tell
304:055,15[C  ]| you.  I know you would never come shoving your nose in$5$ like$4$
304:055,16[C  ]| a rat from under the skirting*board when nobody is
304:055,17[C  ]| looking."
304:055,18[A  ]| "Even if I \seem\ to$9$," 
304:055,18['  ]| said Somers, ironically.
304:055,19[C  ]| "No$7$, no$7$, you do not seem to$9$.  And when I \can\ tell you,
304:055,20[C  ]| I will$1$ do so$5#2$.  I know I can trust you."
304:055,21['  ]| Somers looked up$5$ wondering, and met the meditative
304:055,22['  ]| dark eyes of the other man resting on$4$ his face.
304:055,23[C  ]| "There is some of us chaps," 
304:055,23['  ]| said Jack, 
304:055,23[C  ]| "who$6#1$ have been
304:055,24[C  ]| through the war and had a lick at Paris and London, you
304:055,25[C  ]| know, who$6#1$ can tell a man by$4$ the smell of him, so$5#2$ to$9$ speak.
304:055,26[C  ]| If we can not see the \colour\ of his aura, we can jolly well
304:055,27[C  ]| size up$5$ the \quality\ of it.  And that$6#2$ is what we go by$4$.
304:055,28[C  ]| Call it instinct or what you like$1$.  If I like$1$ a man, slap
304:055,29[C  ]| out, at the first sight, I would trust him into hell, I would."
304:055,30[A  ]| "Fortunately you have not anything \very\ risky to$9$ trust
304:055,31[A  ]| him with," 
304:055,31['  ]| laughed Somers.
304:055,32[C  ]| "I do not know so$5#1$ much about that$6#2$," 
304:055,32['  ]| said Jack.
304:055,33[C  ]| "When a man feels he likes a chap, and trusts him, he is
304:055,34[C  ]| risking all he need, even by$4$ so$5#2$ doing.  Because none of us
304:055,35[C  ]| likes to$9$ be taken in$5$, and to$9$ have our feelings thrown back
304:055,36[C  ]| in$4$ our faces, as you may say, do we?"
304:055,37[A  ]| "We do not," 
304:055,37['  ]| said Somers grimly.
304:055,38[C  ]| "No$7$, we do not.  And you know what it means to$9$ have
304:055,39[C  ]| them thrown back in$4$ your face.  And so$5#2$ do I.  There is a
304:055,40[C  ]| lot of the people here that$6#1$ I would not trust with a thankyou,
304:055,41[C  ]| I would not.  But then there is some that$6#1$ I would.
304:055,42[C  ]| And mind you, taking all for$4$ all, I would rather trust an
304:056,01[C  ]| Aussie, I would rather trust an Australian than an Englishman,
304:056,02[C  ]| I would, and a lot rather.  Yet there is some of the
304:056,03[C  ]| rottenest people in$4$ Sydney that$6#1$ you would find even if you
304:056,04[C  ]| sifted hell over.  Rotten ~~ absolute yellow rotten.  And
304:056,05[C  ]| many of them in$4$ public positions, too.  Simply white-anting
304:056,06[C  ]| society, that$6#2$ is what they are doing.  Talk about
304:056,07[C  ]| public affairs in$4$ Sydney, talk about undercurrents of business
304:056,08[C  ]| in$4$ Sydney:  the wickedest crew on$4$ God's earth, bar
304:056,09[C  ]| none.  All the underhanded tricks of a Chink, a blooming
304:056,10[C  ]| yellow Chinaman, and all the barefaced fair talk of an
304:056,11[C  ]| Englishman.  There you are.  And yet, I am telling you,
304:056,12[C  ]| I would rather trust even a Sydney man, and he is a special sort
304:056,13[C  ]| of wombat, than an Englishman."
304:056,14[A  ]| "So$5#2$ you have told me before:  for$4$ my good, I suppose,"
304:056,15['  ]| laughed Somers, not without irony.
304:056,16[C  ]| "No$7$, now do not you go running away with any wrong
304:056,17[C  ]| ideas,"  
304:056,17['  ]| said Jack, suddenly reaching out his hand and
304:056,18['  ]| laying it on$4$ Somers' arm.  
304:056,18[C  ]| "I am not hinting at anything.
304:056,19[C  ]| If I was I would ask you to$9$ kick me out of your house.  I
304:056,20[C  ]| should deserve it.  No$7$, you are an Englishman.  You are a
304:056,21[C  ]| European, perhaps I ought to$9$ say, for$3$ you have lived about
304:056,22[C  ]| all over that$6#2$ old continent, and you have studied it, and
304:056,23[C  ]| you have got tired of it.  And you have come to$4$ Australia.
304:056,24[C  ]| Your instinct brought you here, however much you may
304:056,25[C  ]| rebel against rats and tin cans and a few other things like$4$
304:056,26[C  ]| that$6#2$.  Your instinct brought you here ~~ and brought you
304:056,27[C  ]| straight up$5$ against me.  Now that$6#2$ I call \fate\."
304:056,28['  ]| He looked at Somers with dark, burning questioning
304:056,29['  ]| eyes.
304:056,30[A  ]| "I suppose following one's deepest instinct \is\ one's
304:056,31[A  ]| fate," 
304:056,31['  ]| said Somers, rather flatly.
304:056,32[C  ]| "There ~~ you know what I mean, you see.  Well then,
304:056,33[C  ]| instinct brings us together.  I knew it the minute I set
304:056,34[C  ]| eyes on$4$ you when I saw you coming across from the
304:056,35[C  ]| Botanical*Gardens, and you wanted a taxi.  And then
304:056,36[C  ]| when I heard the address, 51 Murdoch*Street, I said to$4$
304:056,37[C  ]| myself, 
304:056,37@c   | ""That$6#2$ chap is coming into my life.""  
304:056,37[C  ]| and it is so$5#2$.
304:056,38[C  ]| I am a believer in$4$ fate, absolute."
304:056,39[A  ]| "Yes," 
304:056,39['  ]| said Somers, non-commital.
304:056,40[C  ]| "It is fate that$3$ you left Europe and came to$4$ Australia,
304:056,41[C  ]| bit by$4$ bit, and unwilling to$9$ come, as you say yourself.  It is
304:056,42[C  ]| fate that$6#1$ brings you to$4$ Sydney, and makes me see you that$6#2$
304:057,01[C  ]| dinner-hour coming from the Botanical*Gardens.  It is fate
304:057,02[C  ]| that$6#1$ brings you to$4$ this house.  And it is fate that$6#1$ sets you
304:057,03[C  ]| and me here at this minute playing chess."
304:057,04[A  ]| "If you call it playing chess," 
304:057,04['  ]| laughed Somers.
304:057,05['  ]| Jack looked down at the board.
304:057,06[C  ]| "I am blest if I know whose move it is," 
304:057,06['  ]| he said.  
304:057,06[C  ]| "But
304:057,07[C  ]| never mind.  I say that$3$ fate meant you and Mrs*Somers to$9$
304:057,08[C  ]| come here:  her as much as you.  I say fate meant me and
304:057,09[C  ]| you and Victoria and her to$9$ mean a lot to$4$ one another.
304:057,10[C  ]| And when I feel my fate, I absolutely give myself up$5$ to$4$ it.
304:057,11[C  ]| That$6#2$ is what I say.  Do you think I am right."
304:057,12['  ]| His hand, which$6#1$ held Somers' arm lightly, now gripped
304:057,13['  ]| the biceps of that$6#2$ arm hard, while he looked into the other
304:057,14['  ]| man's face.
304:057,15[A  ]| "I should say so$5#2$," 
304:057,15['  ]| said Somers, rather uncomfortably.
304:057,16['  ]| Jack hardly heeded the words.  He was watching the
304:057,17['  ]| face.
304:057,18[C  ]| "You are a stranger here.  You are from the old country.
304:057,19[C  ]| You are different from us.  But you are a man we want, and
304:057,20[C  ]| you are a man we have got to$9$ keep.  I know it.  What?
304:057,21[C  ]| What do you say?  I can not trust you, can not I?"
304:057,22[A  ]| "What with?"  
304:057,22['  ]| asked Somers.
304:057,23[C  ]| "What with?"  
304:057,23['  ]| Jack hesitated.  
304:057,23[C  ]| "Why everything!"
304:057,24['  ]| he blurted.  
304:057,24[C  ]| "Everything!  Body and soul and money
304:057,25[C  ]| and every blessed thing.  I can trust you with \everything\!
304:057,26[C  ]| Is not that$6#2$ right?"
304:057,27['  ]| Somers looked with troubled eyes into the dark, dilated,
304:057,28['  ]| glowing eyes of the other man.
304:057,29[A  ]| "But I do not know what it means," 
304:057,29['  ]| he stammered.
304:057,30[A  ]| "\Everything\!  It means so$5#1$ much, that$3$ it means nothing."
304:057,31['  ]| Jack nodded his head slowly.
304:057,32[C  ]| "Oh yes it does," 
304:057,32['  ]| he reiterated.  
304:057,32[C  ]| "Oh yes it does."
304:057,33[A  ]| "Besides," 
304:057,33['  ]| said Somers, 
304:057,33[A  ]| "why should you trust me
304:057,34[A  ]| with \anything\, let alone everything.  You have no$2$ occasion
304:057,35[A  ]| to$9$ trust me at all ~~ except ~~ except as one neighbour trusts
304:057,36[A  ]| another, in$4$ common honour."
304:057,37[C  ]| "Common honour!"  
304:057,37['  ]| Jack just caught up$5$ the words,
304:057,38['  ]| not heeding the sense.  
304:057,38[C  ]| "It is more than common honour.
304:057,39[C  ]| It is most uncommon honour.  But look here," 
304:057,39['  ]| he seemed
304:057,40['  ]| to$9$ rouse himself.  
304:057,40[C  ]| "Supposing I came to$4$ you, to$9$ ask you
304:057,41[C  ]| things, and tell you things, you would answer me man to$4$ man,
304:057,42[C  ]| would not you? ~~ with common honour?  You would treat
304:058,01[C  ]| everything I say with common honour, as between man
304:058,02[C  ]| and man?"
304:058,03[A  ]| "Why, yes, I hope so$5#2$."
304:058,04[C  ]| "I know you would.  But for$4$ the sake of saying it, say
304:058,05[C  ]| it.  I can trust you, can not I?  Tell me now, can I trust
304:058,06[C  ]| you?"
304:058,07['  ]| Somers watched him.  
304:058,07@a   | Was it any good making reservations
304:058,08@a   | and qualifications?  The man was in$4$ earnest.  And
304:058,09@a   | according to$4$ standards of commonplace honour, the so-called
304:058,10@a   | honour of man to$4$ man, 
304:058,10['  ]| Somers felt that$3$ 
304:058,10@a   | he would
304:058,11@a   | trust Callcott, and that$3$  Callcott might trust him.  
304:058,11['  ]| So$3$ he
304:058,12['  ]| said simply:
304:058,13[A  ]| "Yes."
304:058,14['  ]| A light leaped into Jack's eyes.
304:058,15[C  ]| "That$6#2$ means you trust me, of course?"  
304:058,15['  ]| he said.
304:058,16[A  ]| "Yes," 
304:058,16['  ]| replied Somers.
304:058,17[C  ]| "Done!"  
304:058,17['  ]| said Jack, rising to$4$ his feet and upsetting
304:058,18['  ]| the chessmen.  Somers also pushed his chair, and rose to$4$
304:058,19['  ]| his feet, thinking they were going across to$4$ the next house.
304:058,20['  ]| But Jack came to$4$ him and flung an arm round his shoulder
304:058,21['  ]| and pressed him close, trembling slightly, and saying
304:058,22['  ]| nothing.  Then he let go, and caught Somers by$4$ the hand.
304:058,23[C  ]| "This is fate," 
304:058,23['  ]| he said, 
304:058,23[C  ]| "and we will$1$ follow it up$5$."  
304:058,23['  ]| He
304:058,24['  ]| seemed to cling to$4$ the other man's hand.  And on$4$ his face
304:058,25['  ]| was a strange light of purpose and of passion, a look at
304:058,26['  ]| once exalted and dangerous.
304:058,27[C  ]| "I will$1$ soon bring the others to$9$ see it," 
304:058,27['  ]| he said.
304:058,28[A  ]| "But you know I do not understand," 
304:058,28['  ]| said Somers,
304:058,29['  ]| withdrawing his hand and taking off his spectacles.
304:058,30[C  ]| "I know," 
304:058,30['  ]| said Jack.  
304:058,30[C  ]| "But I will$1$ let you know everything
304:058,31[C  ]| in$4$ a day or two.  Perhaps you would not mind if
304:058,32[C  ]| William*James ~~ if Jaz came here one evening ~~ or you
304:058,33[C  ]| would not mind having a talk with him over in$4$ my shack."
304:058,34[A  ]| "I do not mind talking to$4$ anybody," 
304:058,34['  ]| said the bewildered
304:058,35['  ]| Somers.
304:058,36[C  ]| "Right you are."
304:058,37['  ]| They still sat for$4$ some time by$4$ the fire, silent; Jack was
304:058,38['  ]| pondering.  Then he looked up$5$ at Somers.
304:058,39[C  ]| "You and me," 
304:058,39['  ]| he said in$4$ a quiet voice, 
304:058,39[C  ]| "in$4$ a way
304:058,40[C  ]| we are mates and in$4$ a way we are not.  In$4$ a way ~~ it is
304:058,41[C  ]| different."
304:058,42['  ]| With which$6#1$ cryptic remark he left it.  And in$4$ a few
304:059,01['  ]| minutes the women came running in$5$ with the sweets, to$9$
304:059,02['  ]| see if the men did not want a macaroon.
304:059,03['  ]| On$4$ Sunday morning Jack asked Somers to$9$ walk with him
304:059,04['  ]| across to$4$ the Trewhellas.  That$6#2$ is, they walked to$4$ one of
304:059,05['  ]| the ferry stations, and took the ferry*steamer to$4$ Mosman's*Bay.
304:059,06['  ]| Jack was a late riser on$4$ Sunday morning.  The
304:059,07['  ]| Somers, who$6#1$ were ordinary half-past seven people, rarely
304:059,08['  ]| saw any signs of life in$4$ Wyewurk before half-past ten on$4$
304:059,09['  ]| the Sabbath ~~ then it was Jack in$4$ trousers and shirt, with
304:059,10['  ]| his shirt-sleeves rolled up$5$, having a look at his dahlias
304:059,11['  ]| while Vicky prepared breakfast.
304:059,12['  ]| So$3$ the two men did not get a start till eleven o'clock.
304:059,13['  ]| Jack rolled along easily beside the smaller, quieter Somers.
304:059,14['  ]| They were an odd couple, ill-assorted.  In$4$ a colonial way,
304:059,15['  ]| Jack was handsome, well-built, with strong, heavy limbs.
304:059,16['  ]| He filled out his expensively tailored suit and looked a
304:059,17['  ]| man who$6#1$ might be worth anything from five hundred to$4$
304:059,18['  ]| five thousand a year.  The only lean, delicate part about
304:059,19['  ]| him was his face.  See him from behind, his broad
304:059,20['  ]| shoulders and loose erect carriage and brown nape of the
304:059,21['  ]| neck, and you expected a good square face to$9$ match.  He
304:059,22['  ]| turned, and his long lean, rather pallid face really did not
304:059,23['  ]| seem to$9$ belong to$4$ his strongly animal body.  For$3$ the face
304:059,24['  ]| was not animal at all, except perhaps in$4$ a certain slow,
304:059,25['  ]| dark, lingering look of the eyes, which$6#1$ reminded one of
304:059,26['  ]| some animal or other, some patient, enduring animal with
304:059,27['  ]| an indomitable but naturally passive courage.
304:059,28['  ]| Somers, in$4$ a light suit of thin cloth, made by$4$ an Italian
304:059,29['  ]| tailor, and an Italian hat, just looked a foreign sort of little
304:059,30['  ]| bloke ~~ but a gentleman.  The chief difference was that$3$ he
304:059,31['  ]| looked sensitive all over, his body, even its clothing, and
304:059,32['  ]| his feet, even his brown shoes, all equally sensitive with
304:059,33['  ]| his face.  Whereas Jack seemed strong and insensitive in$4$
304:059,34['  ]| the body, only his face vulnerable.  His feet might have
304:059,35['  ]| have been made of leather all the way through, tramping
304:059,36['  ]| with an insentient tread.  Whereas Somers put down his
304:059,37['  ]| feet delicately, as if they had a life of their own, mindful
304:059,38['  ]| of each step of contact with the earth.  Jack strode along:
304:059,39['  ]| Somers seemed to$9$ hover along.  There was decision in$4$
304:059,40['  ]| both of them, but oh, of such different quality.  And each
304:059,41['  ]| had a certain admiration of the other, and a very definite
304:059,42['  ]| tolerance.  Jack just barely tolerated the quiet finesse of
304:060,01['  ]| Somers, and Somers tolerated with difficulty Jack's
304:060,02['  ]| facetious familiarity and heartiness.
304:060,03['  ]| Callcott met quite a number of people he knew, and
304:060,04['  ]| greeted them all heartily.  
304:060,04[C  ]| "Hello Bill, old man, how is
304:060,05[C  ]| things?"  "New boots pinchin' yet, Ant'ny?  Hoppy
304:060,06[C  ]| sort of look about you this morning.  Right 'o!  So$5#1$ long,
304:060,07[C  ]| Ant'ny!"  "Different girl again, boy!  go on$5$, Sydney is
304:060,08[C  ]| full of yer sisters.  All right, good-bye, old chap."  
304:060,08['  ]| The
304:060,09['  ]| same breezy intimacy with all of them, and the moment
304:060,10['  ]| they had passed by$5$, they did not exist for$4$ him any more
304:060,11['  ]| than the gull that$6#1$ had curved across in$4$ the air.  They
304:060,12['  ]| seemed to$9$ appear like$4$ phantoms, and disappear in$4$ the
304:060,13['  ]| same instant, like$4$ phantoms.  Like$4$ so$5#1$ many Flying*Dutchmen
304:060,14['  ]| the Australian's acquaintances seemed to$9$ steer slap
304:060,15['  ]| through his consciousness, and were gone on$4$ the wind.
304:060,16@a   | What was the consecutive thread in$4$ the man's feelings?
304:060,17@a   | Not his feeling for$4$ any particular human beings, that$6#2$ was
304:060,18@a   | evident.  His friends, even his loves, were just a series of
304:060,19@a   | disconnected, isolated moments in$4$ his life.  
304:060,19['  ]| Somers always
304:060,20['  ]| came again upon$4$ this gap in$4$ the other man's continuity.
304:060,21['  ]| He felt that$3$ 
304:060,21@a   | if he knew Jack for$4$ twenty years, and then
304:060,22@a   | went away, Jack would say:  
304:060,22@c   | "Friend o' mine, Englishman,
304:060,23@c   | rum sort of bloke, but not a bad sort.  Dunno where
304:060,24@c   | he is hanging out just now.  Somewhere on$4$ the surface of
304:060,25@c   | the old humming-top, I suppose."
304:060,26['  ]| The only consecutive thing was that$6#2$ facetious attitude,
304:060,27['  ]| which$6#1$ was the attitude of taking things as they come,
304:060,28['  ]| perfected.  A sort of ironical stoicism.  Yet the man had a
304:060,29['  ]| sort of passion, and a passionate identity.  But not what
304:060,30['  ]| Somers called human.  And threaded on$4$ this ironical
304:060,31['  ]| stoicism.
304:060,32['  ]| They found Trewhella dressed and expecting them.
304:060,33['  ]| Trewhella was a coal and wood merchant, on$4$ the north
304:060,34['  ]| side.  He lived quite near the wharf, had his sheds at the
304:060,35['  ]| side of the house, and in$4$ the front a bit of garden running
304:060,36['  ]| down to$4$ the practically tideless bay of the harbour.  Across
304:060,37['  ]| the bit of blue water were many red houses, and new, wide
304:060,38['  ]| streets of single cottages, seaside-like, disappearing rather
304:060,39['  ]| forlorn over the brow of the low hill.
304:060,40['  ]| William*James, or Jas, Jaz, as Jack called him, was as
304:060,41['  ]| quiet as ever.  The three men sat on$4$ a bench just above
304:060,42['  ]| the brown rocks of the water's edge, in$4$ the lovely sunshine,
304:061,01['  ]| and watched the big ferry*steamer slip in$5$ and
304:061,02['  ]| discharge its stream of summer-dressed passengers, and
304:061,03['  ]| embark another stream:  watched the shipping of the
304:061,04['  ]| middle harbour away to$4$ the right, and the boats loitering
304:061,05['  ]| on$4$ the little bay in$4$ front.  A motor-boat was sweeping at
304:061,06['  ]| a terrific speed, like$4$ some broom sweeping the water, past
304:061,07['  ]| the little round fort away in$4$ the open harbour, and two
304:061,08['  ]| tall white sailing boats, all wind and no$2$ body, were tacking
304:061,09['  ]| across the pale blue mouth of the bay.  The inland sea of
304:061,10['  ]| the harbour was all bustling with Sunday morning animation:
304:061,11['  ]| and yet there seemed space, and loneliness.  The
304:061,12['  ]| low, coffee-brown cliffs opposite, too low for$4$ cliffs, looked
304:061,13['  ]| as silent and as aboriginal as if white men had never
304:061,14['  ]| come.
304:061,15['  ]| The little girl Gladys came out shyly.  Somers now
304:061,16['  ]| noticed that$3$ she wore spectacles.
304:061,17[C  ]| "Hello kiddie!"  
304:061,17['  ]| said Jack.  
304:061,17[C  ]| "Come here and make
304:061,18[C  ]| a footstool of your uncle, and see what your Aunt*Vicky's
304:061,19[C  ]| been thinking of.  Come on$5$ then, amble up$4$ this road."
304:061,20['  ]| He took her on$4$ his knee, and fished out of his pocket a
304:061,21['  ]| fine sort of hat-band that$6#1$ Victoria had contrived with
304:061,22['  ]| ribbon and artificial flowers and wooden beads.  Gladys
304:061,23['  ]| sat for$4$ a moment or two shyly on$4$ her uncle's knee, and he
304:061,24['  ]| held her there as if she were a big pillow he was scarcely
304:061,25['  ]| conscious of holding.  Her stepfather sat exactly as if the
304:061,26['  ]| child did not exist, or were not present.  It was neutrality
304:061,27['  ]| brought to$4$ a remarkable pitch.  Only Somers seemed
304:061,28['  ]| actually aware that$3$ the child was a little human being ~~
304:061,29['  ]| and to$4$ him she seemed so$5#1$ absent that$3$ he did not know what
304:061,30['  ]| to$9$ make of her.
304:061,31['  ]| Rose came out bringing beer and sausage rolls, and the
304:061,32['  ]| girl vanished away again, seemed to$9$ evaporate.  Somers
304:061,33['  ]| felt uncomfortable, and wondered what he had been
304:061,34['  ]| brought for$4$.
304:061,35[E  ]| "You know Cornwall, do you?"  
304:061,35['  ]| said William*James,
304:061,36['  ]| the Cornish singsong still evident in$4$ his Australian speech.
304:061,37['  ]| He looked with his light-grey, inscrutable eyes at Somers.
304:061,38[A  ]| "I lived for$4$ a time near Padstow," 
304:061,38['  ]| said Somers.
304:061,39[E  ]| "Padstow!  Ay, I have been to$4$ Padstow," 
304:061,39['  ]| said William*James.
304:061,40['  ]| And they talked for$4$ a while of the bleak, lonely
304:061,41['  ]| northern coast of Cornwall, the black huge cliffs with the
304:061,42['  ]| gulls flying away below, and the sea boiling, and the wind
304:062,01['  ]| blowing in$4$ huge volleys:  and the black Cornish nights, with
304:062,02['  ]| nothing but the violent weather outside.
304:062,03[E  ]| "Oh, I remember it, I remember it," 
304:062,03['  ]| said William*James.
304:062,04[E  ]| "Though I was a half-starved youngster on$4$ a
304:062,05[E  ]| bit of a farm out there, you know, for$4$ everlasting chasing
304:062,06[E  ]| half a dozen heifers from the cliffs, where the beggars
304:062,07[E  ]| wanted to$9$ fall over and kill themselves, and hunting for$4$
304:062,08[E  ]| a dozen sheep among the gorse-bushes, and wading up$5$ to$4$
304:062,09[E  ]| my knees in$4$ mud most part of the year, and then in$4$
304:062,10[E  ]| summer, in$4$ the dry times, having to$9$ haul water for$4$ a mile
304:062,11[E  ]| over the rocks in$4$ a wagon, because the well had run dry.
304:062,12[E  ]| And at the end of it my father gave me one new suit in$4$ two
304:062,13[E  ]| years, and sixpence a week.  Ay, that$6#2$ was a life for$4$ you.
304:062,14[E  ]| I suppose if I was there still he would be giving me my keep
304:062,15[E  ]| and five shillin' a week ~~ if he could open his heart as wide
304:062,16[E  ]| as two half-crowns, which$6#1$ I am doubting very much."
304:062,17[A  ]| "You have money out here, at least," 
304:062,17['  ]| said Somers.
304:062,18[A  ]| "But there was a great fascination for$4$ me, in$4$ Cornwall."
304:062,19[E  ]| "Fascination!  And where do you find the fascination?
304:062,20[E  ]| In$4$ a little Wesleyan chapel of a Sunday night, and a girl
304:062,21[E  ]| with her father waiting for$4$ her with a strap if she is not in$5$
304:062,22[E  ]| by$4$ nine o'clock?  Fascination, did you say?"
304:062,23[A  ]| "It had a great fascination for$4$ me ~~ magic ~~ a magic in$4$
304:062,24[A  ]| the atmosphere."
304:062,25[E  ]| "All the fairy tales they will$1$ tell you?"  
304:062,25['  ]| said William*James,
304:062,26['  ]| looking at the other man with a smile of slow
304:062,27['  ]| ridicule.  
304:062,27[E  ]| "Why ye did not go and believe them, did ye?"
304:062,28[A  ]| "More or less.  I could more easily have believed them
304:062,29[A  ]| there than anywhere else I have been."
304:062,30[E  ]| "Ay, no$2$ doubt.  And that$6#2$ shows what sort of a place
304:062,31[E  ]| it be.  Lot of dum silly nonsense."  
304:062,31['  ]| He stirred on$4$ his seat
304:062,32['  ]| impatiently.
304:062,33[A  ]| "At any rate, you are well out of it.  You are set up$5$ all
304:062,34[A  ]| right here," 
304:062,34['  ]| said Somers, who$6#1$ was secretly amused.  The
304:062,35['  ]| other man did not answer for$4$ some time.
304:062,36[E  ]| "Maybe I am," 
304:062,36['  ]| he said at last.  
304:062,36[E  ]| "I am not pining to$9$ go
304:062,37[E  ]| back and work for$4$ my father, I tell you, on$4$ a couple of
304:062,38[E  ]| pasties and a lot of abuse.  No$7$, after that$6#2$, I would like$1$ you
304:062,39[E  ]| to$9$ tell me what is wrong with Australia."
304:062,40[A  ]| "I am sure I do not know," 
304:062,40['  ]| said Somers.  
304:062,40[A  ]| "Probably
304:062,41[A  ]| nothing at all."
304:062,42['  ]| Again William*James was silent.  He was a short, thick
304:063,01['  ]| man, with a little felt hat that$6#1$ sat over his brow with a
304:063,02['  ]| half humorous flap.  He had his knees wide apart, and his
304:063,03['  ]| hands clasped between them.  And he looked for$4$ the most
304:063,04['  ]| part down at the ground.  When he did cock up$5$ his eye
304:063,05['  ]| at Somers, it was with a look of suspicion marked with
304:063,06['  ]| humour and troubled with a certain desire.  The man was
304:063,07['  ]| restless, desirous, craving something ~~ heaven knows what.
304:063,08[E  ]| "You thinking of settling out here then, are you?"  
304:063,08['  ]| he
304:063,09['  ]| asked.
304:063,10[A  ]| "No$7$," 
304:063,10['  ]| said Somers.  
304:063,10[A  ]| "But I do not say I will$1$ not.  It
304:063,11[A  ]| depends."
304:063,12['  ]| William*James fidgetted, tapping his feet rapidly on$4$ the
304:063,13['  ]| ground, though his body was silent.  He was not like$4$ Jack.
304:063,14['  ]| He, too, was sensitive all over, though his body looked so$5#1$
304:063,15['  ]| thick it was silently alive, and his feet were still uneasy.
304:063,16['  ]| He was young too, with a youth that$6#1$ troubled him.  And
304:063,17['  ]| his nature was secretive, maybe treacherous.  It was
304:063,18['  ]| evident Jack only half liked him.
304:063,19[E  ]| "You have got the money, you can live where you like$1$
304:063,20[E  ]| and go where you like$1$," 
304:063,20['  ]| said William*James, looking up$5$ at
304:063,21['  ]| Somers.  
304:063,21[E  ]| "Well, I might do the same.  If I cared to$9$ do it,
304:063,22[E  ]| I could live quietly on$4$ what I have got, whether here or in$4$
304:063,23[E  ]| England."  
304:063,23['  ]| Somers recognised the Cornishman in$4$ this.
304:063,24[A  ]| "You could very easily have as much as I have got," 
304:063,24['  ]| he
304:063,25['  ]| said laughing.
304:063,26[E  ]| "The thing is, what is the good of a life of idleness?"
304:063,27['  ]| said William*James. 
304:063,28[A  ]| "What is the good of a life of work?"  
304:063,28['  ]| laughed Somers.
304:063,29['  ]| Shrewdly, with quick grey eye, Trewhella looked at the
304:063,30['  ]| other man to$9$ see if he were laughing at him.
304:063,31[E  ]| "Yet I expect you have got some purpose in$4$ coming to$4$
304:063,32[E  ]| Australia," 
304:063,32['  ]| said William*James, a trifle challenging.
304:063,33[A  ]| "Maybe I had ~~ or have ~~ maybe it was just whim."
304:063,34['  ]| Again the other man looked shrewdly, to$9$ see if it were
304:063,35['  ]| the truth.
304:063,36[E  ]| "You are not investing money out here, are you?"
304:063,37[A  ]| "No$7$, I have none to$9$ invest."
304:063,38[E  ]| "Because if you was, I would advise you not to$9$."  
304:063,38['  ]| And he
304:063,39['  ]| spat into the distance, and kept his hands clasped tight.
304:063,40['  ]| All this time Jack sat silent and as if unconcerned, but
304:063,41['  ]| listening attentively.
304:063,42[C  ]| "Australians have always been croakers,"  
304:063,42['  ]| he said now.
304:064,01[E  ]| "What do you think of this Irish business?"  
304:064,01['  ]| asked
304:064,02['  ]| William*James.
304:064,03[A  ]| "I?  I really do not think much at all.  I do not feel
304:064,04[A  ]| Ireland is my job, personally.  If I had to$9$ say, offhand,
304:064,05[A  ]| what I would do myself, why, if I could I would just leave the Irish
304:064,06[A  ]| to$4$ themselves, as they want, and let them wipe each other
304:064,07[A  ]| out or kiss and make friends as they please.  They bore
304:064,08[A  ]| me rather."
304:064,09[E  ]| "And what about the Empire?"
304:064,10[A  ]| "That$6#2$ again is not my job.  I am only one man, and I
304:064,11[A  ]| know it.  But personally, I would say to$4$ India and Australia
304:064,12[A  ]| and all of them the same ~~ if you want to$9$ stay in$4$ the
304:064,13[A  ]| Empire, stay; if you want to$9$ go out, go."
304:064,14[E  ]| "And suppose they went out?"
304:064,15[A  ]| "That$6#2$ is their affair."
304:064,16[E  ]| "Supposing Australia said she was coming out of the
304:064,17[E  ]| Empire and governing herself, and only keeping a sort of
304:064,18[E  ]| entente with Britain.  What do you think she would make of
304:064,19[E  ]| it?"
304:064,20[A  ]| "By$4$ the looks of things, I think she would make a howling
304:064,21[A  ]| mess of it.  Yet it might do her good if she were thrown
304:064,22[A  ]| entirely on$4$ her own resources.  You have got to$9$ have something
304:064,23[A  ]| to$9$ keep you steady.  England has really kept the
304:064,24[A  ]| world steady so$5#1$ far ~~ as steady as it has been.  That$6#2$ is my
304:064,25[A  ]| opinion.  Now she is not keeping it very steady, and the
304:064,26[A  ]| world is sick of being bossed, anyhow.  Seems to$4$ me you
304:064,27[A  ]| may as well sink or swim on$4$ your own resources."
304:064,28[E  ]| "Perhaps we are too likely to$9$ find ourselves sinking."
304:064,29[A  ]| "Then you will$1$ come to$4$ your senses, after you have sunk for$4$
304:064,30[A  ]| the third time."
304:064,31[E  ]| "What, about England?  Cling to$4$ England again, you
304:064,32[E  ]| mean?"
304:064,33[A  ]| "No$7$, I do not.  I mean you can not put the brotherhood of
304:064,34[A  ]| man on$4$ a wage basis."
304:064,35[C  ]| "That$6#2$ is what a good many people say here," 
304:064,35['  ]| put in$5$
304:064,36['  ]| Jack.
304:064,37[E  ]| "You do not trust socialism then?"  
304:064,37['  ]| said Jaz, in$4$ a quiet
304:064,38['  ]| voice.
304:064,39[A  ]| "What sort of socialism?  Trades unionism?  Soviet?"
304:064,40[E  ]| "Yes, any."
304:064,41[A  ]| "I really do not care about politics.  Politics is no$2$ more
304:064,42[A  ]| than your country's housekeeping.  If I had to$9$ swallow my
304:065,01[A  ]| whole life up$5$ in$4$ housekeeping, I would not keep house at
304:065,02[A  ]| all; I would sleep under a hedge.  Same with a country and
304:065,03[A  ]| politics.  I would rather have no$2$ country than be gulfed in$4$
304:065,04[A  ]| politics and social stuff.  I would rather have the moon for$4$ a
304:065,05[A  ]| motherland."
304:065,06['  ]| Jaz was silent for$4$ a time, contemplating his knuckles.
304:065,07[E  ]| "And that$6#2$," 
304:065,07['  ]| he said, 
304:065,07[E  ]| "is how the big majority of
304:065,08[E  ]| Australians feel, and that$6#2$ is why they care nothing about
304:065,09[E  ]| Australia.  It is cruel to$4$ the country."
304:065,10[A  ]| "Anyhow, no$2$ sort of \politics\ will$1$ help the country,"
304:065,11['  ]| said Somers.
304:065,12[E  ]| "If it will$1$ not, then nothing will$1$," 
304:065,12['  ]| retorted Jaz.
304:065,13[C  ]| "So$3$ you would advise us all to$9$ be like$4$ seven-tenths of us
304:065,14[C  ]| here, not care a blooming hang about anything except your
304:065,15[C  ]| dinner and which$6#1$ horse gets in$5$?"  
304:065,15['  ]| asked Jack, not without
304:065,16['  ]| sarcasm.
304:065,17['  ]| Now Richard was silent, driven into a corner.
304:065,18[A  ]| "Why," 
304:065,18['  ]| he said, 
304:065,18[A  ]| "there is just this difference.  The
304:065,19[A  ]| bulk of Australians do not care about Australia ~~ that$6#2$ is,
304:065,20[A  ]| you say they do not.  And why do not they?  Because they
304:065,21[A  ]| care about nothing at all, neither in$4$ earth below or heaven
304:065,22[A  ]| above.  They just blankly do not care about anything, and
304:065,23[A  ]| they live in$4$ defiance, a sort of slovenly defiance of care of
304:065,24[A  ]| any sort, human or inhuman, good or bad.  If they have got
304:065,25[A  ]| one belief left, now the war is safely over, it is a dull, rock-bottom
304:065,26[A  ]| belief in$4$ obstinately not caring, not caring about
304:065,27[A  ]| anything.  It seems to$4$ me they think it manly, the only
304:065,28[A  ]| manliness, not to$9$ care, not to$9$ think, not to$9$ attend to$4$ life
304:065,29[A  ]| at all, but just to$9$ tramp blankly on$5$ from moment to$4$
304:065,30[A  ]| moment, and over the edge of death without caring a straw.
304:065,31[A  ]| The final manliness."
304:065,32['  ]| The other two men listened in$4$ silence, the distant,
304:065,33['  ]| colonial silence that$6#1$ hears the voice of the old country
304:065,34['  ]| passionately speaking against them.
304:065,35[E  ]| "But if they are not to$9$ care about politics, what are
304:065,36[E  ]| they to$9$ care about?"  
304:065,36['  ]| asked Jaz, in$4$ his small, insinuating
304:065,37['  ]| voice.
304:065,38['  ]| There was a moment's pause.  Then Jack added his
304:065,39['  ]| question:
304:065,40[C  ]| "Do you yourself really care about anything, Mr*Somers?"
304:065,41[C  ]|
304:065,42['  ]| Richard turned and looked him for$4$ a moment in$4$ the
304:066,01['  ]| eyes.  And then, knowing the two men were trying to$9$
304:066,02['  ]| corner him, he said coolly:
304:066,03[A  ]| "Why, yes.  I care supremely."
304:066,04[C  ]| "About what?"  
304:066,04['  ]| Jack's question was soft as a drop of
304:066,05['  ]| water falling into water, and Richard sat struggling with
304:066,06['  ]| himself.
304:066,07[A  ]| "That$6#2$," 
304:066,07['  ]| he answered, 
304:066,07[A  ]| "you either know or do not know.
304:066,08[A  ]| And if you do not know, it would only be words my trying
304:066,09[A  ]| to$9$ tell."
304:066,10['  ]| There was silence of check-mate.
304:066,11[C  ]| "I am afraid, for$4$ myself, I do not know," 
304:066,11['  ]| said Jack.
304:066,12['  ]| But Somers did not answer, and the talk, rather lamely,
304:066,13['  ]| was turned off to$4$ other things.
304:066,14['  ]| The two men went back to$4$ Murdoch*Street rather silent,
304:066,15['  ]| thinking their own thoughts.  Jack only blurted once;
304:066,16[C  ]| "What do you make of Jaz, then?"
304:066,17[A  ]| "I like$1$ him.  He lives by$4$ himself and keeps himself
304:066,18[A  ]| pretty dark ~~ which$6#1$ is his nature."
304:066,19[C  ]| "He is a cleverer man than you would take him for$4$ ~~ figures
304:066,20[C  ]| things out in$4$ a way that$6#1$ surprises me.  And he is better
304:066,21[C  ]| than a detective for$4$ getting to$9$ know things.  He is got one
304:066,22[C  ]| or two Cornish pals down town, you see ~~ and they tip one
304:066,23[C  ]| another the wink.  They are like$4$ the Irish in$4$ many ways.
304:066,24[C  ]| And they are not uncommonly unlike a Chink.  I always
304:066,25[C  ]| feel as if Jaz had got a bit of Chinese blood in$4$ him.
304:066,26[C  ]| That$6#2$ is what makes the women like$1$ him, I suppose."
304:066,27[A  ]| "But do the women like$1$ him?"
304:066,28[C  ]| "Rose does.  I believe he would make any woman like$1$ him,
304:066,29[C  ]| if he laid himself out to$9$ do it.  Got that$6#2$ quiet way with
304:066,30[C  ]| him, you know, and a sly sort of touch-the-harp-gently,
304:066,31[C  ]| that$6#2$ is what they like$1$ on$4$ the quiet.  But he is the sort of
304:066,32[C  ]| chap I do not exactly fancy mixing my broth with, and
304:066,33[C  ]| drinking of the same can with."
304:066,34['  ]| Somers laughed at the avowal of antipathy between the
304:066,35['  ]| two men.
304:066,36['  ]| They were not home till two o'clock.  Somers found
304:066,37['  ]| Harriet looking rather plaintive.
304:066,38[B  ]| "You have been a long time," 
304:066,38['  ]| she said.  
304:066,38[B  ]| "What did
304:066,39[B  ]| you do?"
304:066,40[A  ]| "Just talked."
304:066,41[B  ]| "What about?"
304:066,42[A  ]| "Politics."
304:067,01[B  ]| "And did you like$1$ them?"
304:067,02[A  ]| "Yes, quite well."
304:067,03[B  ]| "And have you promised to$9$ see them again to-day?"
304:067,04[A  ]| "Who$6#2$?"
304:067,05[B  ]| "Why, any of them ~~ the Callcotts."
304:067,06[A  ]| "No$7$."
304:067,07[B  ]| "Oh.  They are becoming rather an institution."
304:067,08[A  ]| "You like$1$ them too?"
304:067,09[B  ]| "Yes, they are all right.  But I do not want to$9$ spend
304:067,10[B  ]| my life with them.  After all, that$6#2$ sort of people is not
304:067,11[B  ]| exactly my sort ~~ and I thought you used to$9$ pretend it
304:067,12[B  ]| was not yours."
304:067,13[A  ]| "It is not.  But then no$2$ sort of people is my sort."
304:067,14[B  ]| "Yes, it is.  Any sort of people, so$5#1$ long as they make
304:067,15[B  ]| a fuss of you."
304:067,16[A  ]| "Surely they make an even greater fuss of you."
304:067,17[B  ]| "Do they!  It is you they want, not me.  And you go
304:067,18[B  ]| as usual, like$4$ a lamb to$4$ the slaughter."
304:067,19[A  ]| "Baa!"  
304:067,19['  ]| he said.
304:067,20[B  ]| "Yes, baa!  You should hear yourself bleat."
304:067,21[A  ]| "I will$1$ listen," 
304:067,21['  ]| he said.
304:067,22['  ]| But Harriet was becoming discontented.  They had been
304:067,23['  ]| in$4$ their house only six weeks:  and she had had enough of
304:067,24['  ]| it.  Yet it was paid for$4$ for$4$ three months:  at four guineas a
304:067,25['  ]| week.  And they were pretty short of money, and would
304:067,26['  ]| be for$4$ the rest of the year.  He had already overdrawn.
304:067,27['  ]| Yet she began to$9$ suggest going away:  away from
304:067,28['  ]| Sydney.  She felt humiliated in$4$ that$6#2$ beastly little Murdoch*Street.
304:067,29['  ]|
304:067,30[A  ]| "What did I tell you?"  
304:067,30['  ]| he retorted.  
304:067,30[A  ]| "The very look
304:067,31[A  ]| of it humiliated me.  Yet you wanted it, and you said
304:067,32[A  ]| you liked it."
304:067,33[B  ]| "I did like$1$ it ~~ for$4$ the fun of it.  But now there is all
304:067,34[B  ]| this intimacy and neighbouring.  I just can not stand it.  I
304:067,35[B  ]| just can not."
304:067,36[A  ]| "But you began it."
304:067,37[B  ]| "No$7$, I did not; you began it.  And your beastly sweetness
304:067,38[B  ]| and gentleness with such people.  I wish you kept a
304:067,39[B  ]| bit of it for$4$ me."
304:067,40['  ]| He went away in$4$ silence, knowing the uselessness of
304:067,41['  ]| argument.  And to$9$ tell the truth he was feeling also 
304:067,41@a   | a
304:067,42@a   | revulsion from all this neighbouring, as Harriet called
304:068,01@a   | it, and all this talk.  It was usually the same.  He started
304:068,02@a   | by$4$ holding himself aloof, then gradually he let himself get
304:068,03@a   | mixed in$5$, and then he had revulsions.  And to-day was one
304:068,04@a   | of his revulsions.  Coming home from Mosman's*Bay, he
304:068,05@a   | had felt himself dwindle to$4$ a cipher in$4$ Jack's consciousness.
304:068,06@a   | Then, last evening, there had been all this fervour
304:068,07@a   | and protestation.  And this morning all the cross-examination
304:068,08@a   | by$4$ Trewhella.  And he, Somers, had plainly said all
304:068,09@a   | he thought.  And now, as he walked home with Jack,
304:068,10@a   | Jack had no$2$ more use for$4$ him than for$4$ the stump of cigar
304:068,11@a   | which$6#1$ he chewed between his lips merely because he forgot
304:068,12@a   | to$9$ spit it away.  
304:068,12['  ]| Which$6#1$ state of affairs did not go at all
304:068,13['  ]| well with \our\ friend's sense of self-importance.
304:068,14['  ]| Therefore, when he got home, his eyes opened once more
304:068,15['  ]| to$4$ the delicacy of Harriet's real beauty, which$6#1$ he knew as
304:068,16['  ]| none else knew it, after twelve years of marriage.  And
304:068,17['  ]| once more he realised her gay, undying courage, her
304:068,18['  ]| wonderful fresh zest in$4$ front of life.  And all these other
304:068,19['  ]| little people seemed so$5#1$ common in$4$ comparison, so$5#1$ common.
304:068,20['  ]| He stood still with astonishment, wondering 
304:068,20@a   | how he could
304:068,21@a   | have come to$9$ betray the essential reality of his life and
304:068,22@a   | Harriet's to$4$ the common use of these other people with
304:068,23@a   | their watchful, vulgar wills.  That$6#2$ scene of last evening:
304:068,24@a   | what right had a fellow like$4$ Callcott to$9$ be saying these
304:068,25@a   | things to$4$ him?  What right had he to$9$ put his arm round
304:068,26@a   | his, Richard's shoulder, and give him a tight hug?  
304:068,26['  ]| Somers
304:068,27['  ]| winced to$9$ think of it.  
304:068,27@a   | And now Callcott had gone off with
304:068,28@a   | his Victoria in$4$ Sunday clothes to$4$ some other outing.  Anything
304:068,29@a   | was as good as anything else; why not!
304:068,30@a   | A gulf there was between them, really, between the
304:068,31@a   | Somers and the Callcotts.  And yet the easy way Callcott
304:068,32@a   | flung a flimsy rope of intimacy across the gulf, and was
304:068,33@a   | embracing the pair of his neighbours in$4$ mid-air, as it were,
304:068,34@a   | without a grain of common foothold.  
304:068,34['  ]| And Somers let himself
304:068,35['  ]| be embraced.  So$3$ he sat pale and silent and mortified
304:068,36['  ]| in$4$ the kitchen that$6#2$ evening thinking of it all, and wishing
304:068,37['  ]| himself far away, in$4$ Europe.
304:068,38[A  ]| "Oh, how I detest this treacly democratic Australia,"
304:068,39['  ]| he said.  
304:068,39[A  ]| "It swamps one with a sort of common emotion
304:068,40[A  ]| like$4$ treacle, and before one knows where one is, one is
304:068,41[A  ]| caught like$4$ a fly on$4$ a flypaper, in$4$ one mess with all the
304:068,42[A  ]| other buzzers.  How I hate it!  I want to$9$ go away."
304:069,01[B  ]| "It is not Australia," 
304:069,01['  ]| said Harriet.  
304:069,01[B  ]| "Australia is lonely.
304:069,02[B  ]| It is just the people.  And it is not even the people ~~ if you
304:069,03[B  ]| would only keep your proper distance, and not make yourself
304:069,04[B  ]| cheap to$4$ them and get into messes."
304:069,05[A  ]| "No$7$, it is the country.  It is in$4$ the air.  I want to$9$
304:069,06[A  ]| leave it."
304:069,07['  ]| But he was not very emphatic.  Harriet wanted to$9$ go
304:069,08['  ]| down to$4$ the South*Coast, of which$6#1$ she had heard from
304:069,09['  ]| Victoria.
304:069,10[B  ]| "Think," 
304:069,10['  ]| she said, 
304:069,10[B  ]| "it must be lovely there ~~ with the
304:069,11[B  ]| mountain behind, and steep hills, and blackberries, and
304:069,12[B  ]| lovely little bays with sand."
304:069,13[A  ]| "There will$1$ be no$2$ blackberries.  It is end of June ~~ which$6#1$
304:069,14[A  ]| is their mid-winter."
304:069,15[B  ]| "But there will$1$ be the other things.  Let us do that$6#2$, and
304:069,16[B  ]| never mind the beastly money for$4$ this pokey Torestin."
304:069,17[A  ]| "They have asked us to$9$ go with them to$4$ Mullumbimby in$4$
304:069,18[A  ]| a fortnight.  Shall we wait till then and look?"
304:069,19['  ]| Harriet sat in$4$ silence for$4$ some moments.
304:069,20[B  ]| "We might," 
304:069,20['  ]| she said reluctantly.  She did not want to$9$
304:069,21['  ]| wait.  But what Victoria had told her of Mullumbimby,
304:069,22['  ]| the township on$4$ the South*Coast, so$5#1$ appealed to$4$ her that$3$
304:069,23['  ]| she decided to$9$ abide by$4$ her opportunity.
304:069,24['  ]| And then curiously enough, for$4$ the next week the neighbours
304:069,25['  ]| hardly saw one another.  It was as if the same wave
304:069,26['  ]| of revulsion had passed over both sides of the fence.  They
304:069,27['  ]| had fleeting glimpses of Victoria as she went about the
304:069,28['  ]| house.  And when he could, Jack put in$5$ an hour at his
304:069,29['  ]| garden in$4$ the evening, tidying it up$5$ finally for$4$ the winter.
304:069,30['  ]| But the weather was bad, it rained a good deal; there were
304:069,31['  ]| fogs in$4$ the morning, and foghorns on$4$ the harbour; and
304:069,32['  ]| the Somers kept their doors continually blank and shut.
304:069,33['  ]| Somers went round to$4$ the shipping agents and found
304:069,34['  ]| out about boats to$4$ San*Francisco, and talked of sailing in$4$
304:069,35['  ]| July, and of stopping at Tahiti or at Fiji on$4$ the way, and
304:069,36['  ]| of cabling for$4$ money for$4$ the fares.  He figured it all out.
304:069,37['  ]| And Harriet mildly agreed.  Her revulsion from Australia
304:069,38['  ]| had passed quicker than his, now that$3$ she saw herself
304:069,39['  ]| escaping from town and from neighbours to$4$ the quiet of a
304:069,40['  ]| house by$4$ the sea, alone with him.  Still she let him talk.
304:069,41['  ]| Verbal agreement and silent opposition is perhaps the best
304:069,42['  ]| weapon on$4$ such occasions.
304:070,01['  ]| Harriet would look at him sometimes wistfully, as he
304:070,02['  ]| sat with his brow clouded.  She had a real instinctive mistrust
304:070,03['  ]| of other people ~~ all other people.  
304:070,03@b   | In$4$ her heart of
304:070,04@b   | hearts 
304:070,04['  ]| she said 
304:070,04@b   | she wanted to$9$ live alone with Somers, and
304:070,05@b   | know nobody, all the rest of her life.  In$4$ Australia, where
304:070,06@b   | one can be lonely, and where the land almost calls to$4$ one
304:070,07@b   | to$9$ be lonely ~~ and then drives one back again on$4$ one's
304:070,08@b   | fellow-men in$4$ a kind of frenzy.  
304:070,08['  ]| Harriet would be quite
304:070,09['  ]| happy, by$4$ the sea, with a house and a little garden and
304:070,10['  ]| as much space to$4$ herself as possible, knowing nobody, but
304:070,11['  ]| having Lovat always there.  And he could write, and it
304:070,12['  ]| would be perfect.
304:070,13['  ]| But he would not be happy ~~ and he said so$5#2$ ~~ and she
304:070,14['  ]| knew it.  She saw it like$4$ a doom on$4$ his brow.
304:070,15[B  ]| "And why could not we be happy in$4$ this wonderful new
304:070,16[B  ]| country, living to$4$ ourselves.  We could have a cow, and
304:070,17[B  ]| chickens ~~ and then the Pacific, and this marvellous new
304:070,18[B  ]| country.  Surely that$6#2$ is enough for$4$ any man.  Why must
304:070,19[B  ]| you have more?"
304:070,20[A  ]| "Because I feel I \must\ fight out something with mankind
304:070,21[A  ]| yet.  I have not finished with my fellow-men.  I have
304:070,22[A  ]| got a struggle with them yet."
304:070,23[B  ]| "But what struggle?  What is the good?  What is the
304:070,24[B  ]| point of your struggle?  And what is your struggle for$4$?"
304:070,25[A  ]| "I do not know.  But it is inside me, and I have not
304:070,26[A  ]| finished yet.  To$9$ make some kind of an opening ~~ some
304:070,27[A  ]| kind of a way for$4$ the afterwards."
304:070,28[B  ]| "Ha, the afterwards will$1$ make its own way, it will$1$ not
304:070,29[B  ]| wait for$4$ you.  It is a kind of nervous obstinacy and self-importance
304:070,30[B  ]| in$4$ you.  You \do not\ like$1$ people.  You always
304:070,31[B  ]| turn away from them and hate them.  Yet like$4$ a dog to$4$
304:070,32[B  ]| his vomit you always turn back.  And it will$1$ be the same
304:070,33[B  ]| old game here again as everywhere else.  What are these
304:070,34[B  ]| people after all?  Quite nice, but just common and ~~ and
304:070,35[B  ]| not in$4$ your line at all.  But there you are.  You stick your
304:070,36[B  ]| head into a bush like$4$ an ostrich, and think you are doing
304:070,37[B  ]| wonders."
304:070,38[A  ]| "I intend to$9$ move with men and get men to$9$ move with
304:070,39[A  ]| me before I die," 
304:070,39['  ]| he said.  Then he added hastily:  
304:070,39[A  ]| "Or
304:070,40[A  ]| at any rate I will$1$ try a bit longer yet.  When I make up$5$ my
304:070,41[A  ]| mind that$3$ it is really no$2$ good, I will$1$ go with you and we will$1$
304:070,42[A  ]| live alone somewhere together, and forget the world.  And
304:071,01[A  ]| in$4$ Australia too.  Just like$4$ a business*man retiring.  I will$1$
304:071,02[A  ]| retire away from the world, and forget it.  But not yet.
304:071,03[A  ]| Not till I feel I have finished.  I have got to$9$ struggle with men
304:071,04[A  ]| and the world of men for$4$ a time yet.  When it is over I will$1$
304:071,05[A  ]| do as you say."
304:071,06[B  ]| "Ah, you and your men, men!  What do these Callcotts
304:071,07[B  ]| and these little Trewhella people mean to$4$ you after
304:071,08[B  ]| all?  Are they men?  They are only something you delude
304:071,09[B  ]| yourself about.  And then you will$1$ come a cropper, and fall
304:071,10[B  ]| back on$4$ me.  Just as it always is.  You fall back on$4$ me,
304:071,11[B  ]| and I am expected to$9$ like$1$ it.  I am good enough to$9$ fall back
304:071,12[B  ]| on$5$, when you have made a fool of yourself with a lot of
304:071,13[B  ]| tuppenny little people, imagining you are doing something
304:071,14[B  ]| in$4$ the world of \men\.  Much men there is about it.
304:071,15[B  ]| Common little street-people, that$6#2$ is all."
304:071,16['  ]| He was silent.  He heard all she had to$9$ say:  and he
304:071,17['  ]| knew that$3$ 
304:071,17@a   | as far as the past went, it was all quite true.
304:071,18@a   | He had started off on$4$ his fiery courses:  always, as she said,
304:071,19@a   | to$9$ fall back rather the worse for$4$ the attempt, on$4$ her.  She
304:071,20@a   | had no$2$ use at all for$4$ fiery courses and efforts with the world
304:071,21@a   | of men.  Let all that$6#2$ rubbish go.
304:071,22[A  ]| "Well," 
304:071,22['  ]| he said.  
304:071,22[A  ]| "It is my need to$9$ make these tries,
304:071,23[A  ]| yet.  Wait till I have exhausted the need, and we will$1$ have a
304:071,24[A  ]| little place of our own and forget the world, really.  I
304:071,25[A  ]| know I can do it.  I could almost do it now:  and here in$4$
304:071,26[A  ]| Australia.  The country appeals to$4$ me that$6#2$ way:  to$9$ lose
304:071,27[A  ]| oneself and have done with this side of life.  But wait a
304:071,28[A  ]| bit longer."
304:071,29[B  ]| "Ah, I suppose I shall have to$9$," 
304:071,29['  ]| she said recklessly.
304:071,30[B  ]| "You will$1$ have to$9$ go on$5$ making a fool of yourself till you are
304:071,31[B  ]| tired.  Wives are \supposed\ to$9$ have to$9$ take their husbands
304:071,32[B  ]| back a little damaged and repentant from their \love\ \affairs\
304:071,33[B  ]| with other women.  And I am hanged if it would not be more
304:071,34[B  ]| fun than this business of seeing you come back once more
304:071,35[B  ]| fooled from your attempts with \men\ ~~ the world of men,
304:071,36[B  ]| as you call it.  If they \were\ real men I would not mind.
304:071,37[B  ]| But look at your Jack*Callcott.  Really, and you are
304:071,38[B  ]| supposed to$9$ have had some experience in$4$ life.  ""Clip in$5$,
304:071,39[B  ]| old man!"" "  
304:071,39['  ]| She imitated Jack's voice and manner.
304:071,40[B  ]| "And you stand it all and think it is wonderful!  Nay,
304:071,41[B  ]| men are too foolish for$4$ me to$9$ understand them;  I give
304:071,42[B  ]| them up$5$."
304:072,01['  ]| He laughed, realising that$3$ most of what she said was true.
304:072,02[A  ]| "You see," 
304:072,02['  ]| he said, 
304:072,02[A  ]| "I have the roots of my life with
304:072,03[A  ]| you.  But I want if possible to$9$ send out a new shoot in$4$
304:072,04[A  ]| the life of mankind ~~ the effort man makes forever, to$9$ grow
304:072,05[A  ]| into new forms."
304:072,06['  ]| She looked at him.  And somehow she wanted to$9$ cry,
304:072,07['  ]| because 
304:072,07@b   | he was so$5#1$ silly in$4$ refusing to$9$ be finally disappointed
304:072,08@b   | in$4$ his efforts with mankind, and yet his silliness
304:072,09@b   | was pathetic, in$4$ a way beautiful.  But then it \was\ so$5#1$ silly
304:072,10['  ]| ~~ she wanted to$9$ shake him.
304:072,11[B  ]| "Send out a new shoot then.  Send it out.  You do it
304:072,12[B  ]| in$4$ your writing already!"  
304:072,12['  ]| she cried. 
304:072,12[B  ]| "But getting yourself
304:072,13[B  ]| mixed up$5$ with these impudent little people will$1$ not send
304:072,14[B  ]| any shoots, do not you think it.  They will$1$ nip you in$4$ the bud
304:072,15[B  ]| again, as they always do."
304:072,16['  ]| He pondered this also, stubbornly, and knew it was true.
304:072,17['  ]| But he had set his will$0$ on$4$ something, and was not going
304:072,18['  ]| to$9$ give way.
304:072,19[A  ]| "I want to$9$ do something with living people, somewhere,
304:072,20[A  ]| somehow, while I live on$4$ the earth.  I write, but I write
304:072,21[A  ]| alone.  And I live alone.  Without any connection whatever
304:072,22[A  ]| with the rest of men."
304:072,23[B  ]| "Do not swank, you do not live alone.  You have got \me\
304:072,24[B  ]| there safe enough, to$9$ support you.  Do not swank to$4$ me
304:072,25[B  ]| about being alone, because it insults me, you see.  I know
304:072,26[B  ]| how much alone you are, with me always there keeping
304:072,27[B  ]| you together."
304:072,28['  ]| And again he sulked and swallowed it, and obstinately
304:072,29['  ]| held out.
304:072,30[A  ]| "None the less," 
304:072,30['  ]| he retorted, 
304:072,30[A  ]| "I do want to$9$ do something
304:072,31[A  ]| along with men.  I \am\ alone and cut off.  As a man
304:072,32[A  ]| among men, I just have no$2$ place.  I have my life with
304:072,33[A  ]| you, I know:  \7et\ \7preterea\ \7nihil\."
304:072,34[B  ]| "\7Et\ \7preterea\ \7nihil\!  And what more do you want?
304:072,35[B  ]| Besides, you liar, have not you your writing?  Is not that$6#2$ all
304:072,36[B  ]| you want, is not that$6#2$ \doing\ all there is to$9$ be done?  Men!
304:072,37[B  ]| Much \men\ there is about them!  Bah, when it comes to$4$
304:072,38[B  ]| that$6#2$, I have to$9$ be even the only man as well as the only
304:072,39[B  ]| woman."
304:072,40[A  ]| "That$6#2$ is the whole trouble," 
304:072,40['  ]| said he bitingly.
304:072,41[B  ]| "Bah, you creature, you ought to$9$ be grateful," 
304:072,41['  ]| cried
304:072,42['  ]| Harriet.
304:073,01['  ]| William*James arrived one morning when the Callcotts
304:073,02['  ]| were both out, and brought a little basket of persimmons
304:073,03['  ]| and passion*fruits for$4$ Harriet.  As it happened, Somers
304:073,04['  ]| also was out.
304:073,05[E  ]| "I remember you said you like$1$ these date-plums, Mrs*Somers.
304:073,06[E  ]| Over at our place we do not care for$4$ them, so$3$ if
304:073,07[E  ]| you like$1$ to$9$ have them you are welcome.  And these are
304:073,08[E  ]| about the last of the passion*fruit, seemingly."
304:073,09['  ]| The persimmons were good big ones, of that$6#2$ lovely suave
304:073,10['  ]| orange-red colour which$6#1$ is perhaps their chief attraction,
304:073,11['  ]| and they were just beginning to$9$ go soft.  Harriet of course
304:073,12['  ]| was enchanted.  William*James came in$5$ and sat down for$4$
304:073,13['  ]| a few minutes, wondering what had become of Victoria.
304:073,14['  ]| He looked round the room curiously.  Harriet had, of
304:073,15['  ]| course, arranged it to$4$ her own liking, taken away all the
304:073,16['  ]| pictures and ornaments, hung a Tunis curtain behind the
304:073,17['  ]| couch, stood two tall red lacquer candlesticks on$4$ the
304:073,18['  ]| mantelpiece, and altogether given the room that$6#2$ air of
304:073,19['  ]| pleasant distinction which$6#1$ a woman who$6#1$ knows how to$9$ do
304:073,20['  ]| it finds so$5#1$ easy, especially if she has a few shawls and
304:073,21['  ]| cushion-covers and bits of interesting brass or china.
304:073,22['  ]| Harriet insisted on$4$ travelling with a few such things.  She
304:073,23['  ]| was prepared to$9$ camp in$4$ a furnished bungalow or cottage
304:073,24['  ]| on$4$ any continent, but a few of her own things she must
304:073,25['  ]| have about her.  Also she wore a dress of Bavarian peasant
304:073,26['  ]| stuff, very thin black woollen material, sprinkled all over
304:073,27['  ]| with tiny pink roses with green leaves.  And on$4$ her feet
304:073,28['  ]| she had heelless sandals of plaited strips of leather, from
304:073,29['  ]| Colombo.  William*James noticed every one of these
304:073,30['  ]| things.  They had a glamour like$4$ magic for$4$ him.
304:073,31[E  ]| "This is quite a pleasant room you have here," 
304:073,31['  ]| he said
304:073,32['  ]| in$4$ his Cornish voice, with the alert, subtle, faintly smiling
304:073,33['  ]| look of wonder on$4$ his face.
304:073,34[B  ]| "It is not bad," 
304:073,34['  ]| said Harriet.  
304:073,34[B  ]| "But a bit poky."
304:073,35[E  ]| "Poky you call it?  Do you remember the little stone
304:073,36[E  ]| holes they have for$4$ rooms in$4$ those old stone Cornish
304:073,37[E  ]| cottages?"
304:073,38[B  ]| "Yes ~~ but we had a lovely one.  And the great thick
304:073,39[B  ]| granite walls and the low ceilings."
304:073,40[E  ]| "Walls always letting the damp in$5$, can not keep it out,
304:073,41[E  ]| because all the chinks and spaces are just stuffed with
304:073,42[E  ]| plain earth, and a bit of mortar smeared over the outside
304:074,01[E  ]| like$4$ butter scraped on$4$ bread.  Do not I remember it!  I
304:074,02[E  ]| should think I do."
304:074,03[B  ]| "Cornwall had a great charm for$4$ me."
304:074,04[E  ]| "Well, I do not know where you found it, I am sure.  But
304:074,05[E  ]| I suppose you have got a way of your own with a place, let
304:074,06[E  ]| it be Cornwall or where it may, to$9$ make it look well.  It
304:074,07[E  ]| all depends where you are born and where you come from."
304:074,08[B  ]| "Perhaps," 
304:074,08['  ]| said Harriet.
304:074,09[E  ]| "I have never seen an Australian cottage looking like$4$ this,
304:074,10[E  ]| now.  And yet it is not the number of things you have put
304:074,11[E  ]| into it."
304:074,12[B  ]| "The number I have taken out," 
304:074,12['  ]| laughed Harriet.
304:074,13['  ]| William*James sat there with his quiet, slumberous-seeming
304:074,14['  ]| body, watching her:  watching the quick radiance
304:074,15['  ]| of her fair face, and the charm of her bearing.  There was
304:074,16['  ]| something quick and sure and, as it were, beyond the
304:074,17['  ]| ordinary clay, about her, that$6#1$ exercised a spell over him.
304:074,18['  ]| She was his real Cornish idea of a lady:  simple, living
304:074,19['  ]| among people as if one of themselves, and yet not one of
304:074,20['  ]| themselves:  a sort of magic about her.  He could almost
304:074,21['  ]| see a glow in$4$ the air around her.  And he could see that$3$
304:074,22['  ]| for$4$ her he was just a nice fellow who$6#1$ lived in$4$ another world
304:074,23['  ]| and on$4$ another plane than herself, and that$3$ he could never
304:074,24['  ]| come up$5$ or she come down.  She was the queen that$6#1$
304:074,25['  ]| slumbers somewhere in$4$ every Cornish imagination, the
304:074,26['  ]| queen ungrudged.  And perhaps, in$4$ the true Celtic
304:074,27['  ]| imagination slumbers the glamorous king as well.  The
304:074,28['  ]| Celt needs the mystic glow of real kingliness.  Hence his
304:074,29['  ]| loneliness in$4$ the democratic world of industry, and his
304:074,30['  ]| social perversity.
304:074,31[E  ]| "I do not suppose Rose could ever learn to$9$ do this with
304:074,32[E  ]| a room, could she now?"  
304:074,32['  ]| he asked, making a slight gesture
304:074,33['  ]| with his hand.  He sat with his clear, queer, light grey
304:074,34['  ]| eyes fixed on$4$ Harriet's face.
304:074,35[B  ]| "I think so$5#2$," 
304:074,35['  ]| cried Harriet; then she met the watchful
304:074,36['  ]| eyes.  
304:074,36[B  ]| "In$4$ her own way she could.  Every woman has her
304:074,37[B  ]| own way, you know."
304:074,38[E  ]| "Yes, I do know," 
304:074,38['  ]| he answered.
304:074,39[B  ]| "And you see," 
304:074,39['  ]| said Harriet, 
304:074,39[B  ]| "we are more or less lazy
304:074,40[B  ]| people who$6#1$ have no$2$ regular work in$4$ the world.  If we had,
304:074,41[B  ]| perhaps we should live in$4$ a different way."
304:074,42['  ]| William*James shook his head.
304:075,01[E  ]| "It is what is bred into you," 
304:075,01['  ]| he said, 
304:075,01[E  ]| "that$6#1$ comes out.
304:075,02[E  ]| Now if I was a really rich man, I think I could learn to$9$
304:075,03[E  ]| carry it off with the best of them, out here.  But when it
304:075,04[E  ]| comes to$4$ being the real thing, why, I know it would be
304:075,05[E  ]| beyond me, so$3$ there you are."
304:075,06[B  ]| "But can one be sure?"  
304:075,06['  ]| she cried.
304:075,07[E  ]| "I think I can.  I can see the difference between
304:075,08[E  ]| common and uncommon.  I can do more than that$6#2$.  I can
304:075,09[E  ]| see the difference between gentlemen who$6#1$ have not got the
304:075,10[E  ]| gift, and those that$6#1$ have.  Take Lord*Washburn, for$4$
304:075,11[E  ]| example.  He is a gentleman all right ~~ he comes of an old
304:075,12[E  ]| family, they tell me.  But I doubt very much if he is any
304:075,13[E  ]| better than I am."
304:075,14[B  ]| "Why should he be?"  
304:075,14['  ]| cried Harriet.
304:075,15[E  ]| "What I mean is," 
304:075,15['  ]| said William*James, 
304:075,15[E  ]| "he has not
304:075,16[E  ]| got the gift, you know."
304:075,17[B  ]| "The gift of what?"  
304:075,17['  ]| said Harriet, puzzled.
304:075,18[E  ]| "How shall I put it?  The gift that$6#1$ you have got, now:
304:075,19[E  ]| and that$6#1$ Mr*Somers has as well:  and that$6#1$ people out here
304:075,20[E  ]| do not have."
304:075,21[B  ]| "But that$6#2$ may only be manner," 
304:075,21['  ]| said Harriet.
304:075,22[E  ]| "No$7$, it is more than manner.  It is the gift of being
304:075,23[E  ]| superior, there now:  better than most folks.  You understand
304:075,24[E  ]| me, I do not mean swank and money.  That$6#2$ will$1$ never
304:075,25[E  ]| give it you.  Neither is it \thinking\ yourself superior.  The
304:075,26[E  ]| people that$6#1$ are superior do not think it, and do not even seem
304:075,27[E  ]| to$9$ feel it, in$4$ a way.  And yet in$4$ a way they know it.  But
304:075,28[E  ]| there are not many of them out here.  And what there are
304:075,29[E  ]| go away.  This place is meant for$4$ all one dead level sort of
304:075,30[E  ]| people."
304:075,31['  ]| He spoke with curious sarcasm.
304:075,32[B  ]| "But," 
304:075,32['  ]| said Harriet, 
304:075,32[B  ]| "you are Australian yourself
304:075,33[B  ]| now, are not you?  Or do not you feel it?"
304:075,34[E  ]| "Oh yes, I suppose I feel it," 
304:075,34['  ]| he said, shifting uneasily
304:075,35['  ]| on$4$ his seat.  
304:075,35[E  ]| "I \am\ Australian.  and I am Australian
304:075,36[E  ]| partly because I know that$3$ in$4$ Australia there \will$1$ not\ be
304:075,37[E  ]| anybody any better than me.  There now."
304:075,38[B  ]| "But," 
304:075,38['  ]| laughed Harriet, 
304:075,38[B  ]| "are not you glad then?"
304:075,39[E  ]| "Glad?"  
304:075,39['  ]| he said.  
304:075,39[E  ]| "It is not a matter for$4$ gladness.
304:075,40[E  ]| It is a fact.  But I am not one of the fools who$6#1$ think there is
304:075,41[E  ]| nobody any better than me in$4$ the world.  I know there
304:075,42[E  ]| are."
304:076,01[B  ]| "How queer to$9$ hear you say so$5#2$?"
304:076,02[E  ]| "But this is not the place for$4$ them.  Here in$4$ Australia
304:076,03[E  ]| we do not want them.  We want the new-fashioned sort of
304:076,04[E  ]| people who$6#1$ are all dead-level as good as one another.
304:076,05[E  ]| You are going to$4$ Mullumbimby this week-end with Jack and
304:076,06[E  ]| Victoria, are not you?"
304:076,07[B  ]| "Yes.  And I thought if we liked it we might stay down
304:076,08[B  ]| there for$4$ a while ~~ by$4$ the sea ~~ away from the town."
304:076,09[E  ]| "You please yourselves, of course.  Perhaps better
304:076,10[E  ]| there than here.  But ~~ it is no$2$ business of mine, you know
304:076,11[E  ]| that$3$" ~~ 
304:076,11['  ]| he shrugged his shoulders.  
304:076,11[E  ]| "But there is something
304:076,12[E  ]| comes over me when I see Mr*Somers thinking he can
304:076,13[E  ]| live out here, and work with the Australians.  I think he is
304:076,14[E  ]| wrong ~~ I really do.  They will$1$ drag him down to$4$ their level,
304:076,15[E  ]| and make what use they can of him ~~ and ~~ well, in$4$ my
304:076,16[E  ]| opinion you would both be sorry for$4$ it."
304:076,17[B  ]| "How strange that$3$ you should say so$5#2$, you who$6#1$ are one
304:076,18[B  ]| of them."
304:076,19[E  ]| "I am one of them, and I am not.  I am not one of anybody.
304:076,20[E  ]| But I have not got only just the two eyes in$4$ my head
304:076,21[E  ]| that$6#1$ can tell the kettle from the teapot.  I have got another
304:076,22[E  ]| set of eyes inside me somewhere that$6#1$ can tell real differences,
304:076,23[E  ]| when there are any.  And that$6#2$ is what these people
304:076,24[E  ]| do not seem to$9$ have at all.  They have only got the outside
304:076,25[E  ]| eyes."
304:076,26['  ]| Harriet looked at him in$4$ wonder.  And he looked at
304:076,27['  ]| her ~~ at her queer, rather large, but thin-skinned, soft
304:076,28['  ]| hands.
304:076,29[E  ]| "You need a thick skin to$9$ live out here," 
304:076,29['  ]| he said.
304:076,30['  ]| But still she sat with her hands folded, lost in$4$ meditation.
304:076,31[B  ]| "But Lovat wants so$5#1$ much to$9$ do something in$4$ the
304:076,32[B  ]| world, with other men," 
304:076,32['  ]| she said at last.  
304:076,32[B  ]| "It is not \my\
304:076,33[B  ]| urging, I assure you."
304:076,34[E  ]| "He is making a mistake.  He is making a mistake to$9$
304:076,35[E  ]| come out here, tell him from me.  They will$1$ take him at
304:076,36[E  ]| their own level, not at his."
304:076,37[B  ]| "But perhaps he wants to$9$ be taken at their level," 
304:076,37['  ]| said
304:076,38['  ]| Harriet, rather bitterly, almost loving the short, thick man
304:076,39['  ]| opposite for$4$ his quiet, Cornish voice and his uncanny grey
304:076,40['  ]| eyes, and his warning.
304:076,41[E  ]| "If he does he makes the mistake of his life, tell him
304:076,42[E  ]| from me."  
304:076,42['  ]| And William*James rose to$4$ his feet.  
304:076,42[E  ]| "You will$1$
304:077,01[E  ]| excuse me for$4$ stopping talking like$4$ this, over things that$6#1$ is
304:077,02[E  ]| no$2$ business of mine," 
304:077,02['  ]| he added.
304:077,03[B  ]| "It is awfully good of you," 
304:077,03['  ]| said Harriet.
304:077,04[E  ]| "Well, it is not often I interfere with people's doings.
304:077,05[E  ]| But there was just something about you and Mr*Somers ~~ "
304:077,06[B  ]| "Awfully good of you."
304:077,07['  ]| He had taken his little black felt hat. He had an almost
304:077,08['  ]| Italian or Spanish look about him ~~ from one of the big
304:077,09['  ]| towns, Barcelona or even Palermo.
304:077,10[E  ]| "I suppose I will$1$ have to$9$ be getting along," 
304:077,10['  ]| he said.
304:077,11['  ]| She held out her hand to$4$ him to$9$ bid him good-bye.  But
304:077,12['  ]| he shook hands in$4$ a loose, slack way, and was gone, leaving
304:077,13['  ]| Harriet uneasy as if she had received warning of a hidden
304:077,14['  ]| danger.
304:077,15['  ]| She hastened to$9$ show Somers the persimmons when he
304:077,16['  ]| came home, and to$9$ tell of her visitor.
304:077,17[B  ]| "And he is queer, Lovat, he is awfully queer ~~ nice too.
304:077,18[B  ]| He told me we were superior people, and that$3$ we made a
304:077,19[B  ]| mistake coming here, because they would bring us down to$4$ their
304:077,20[B  ]| level."
304:077,21[A  ]| "Not if we do not let them."
304:077,22[B  ]| "He says we can not help it."
304:077,23[A  ]| "Why did he come to$9$ tell you that$6#2$, I wonder."
304:077,24['  ]| They were going down to$4$ Mullumbimby in$4$ two days'
304:077,25['  ]| time ~~ and they had hardly seen anything of Jack and
304:077,26['  ]| Victoria since the Sunday at Mosman's*Bay.  But Victoria
304:077,27['  ]| called across the fence, rather hesitantly:
304:077,28[D  ]| "You are going with us on$4$ Saturday, are not you, Mrs*Somers?"
304:077,29[D  ]| 
304:077,30[B  ]| "Oh yes, we are looking forward to$4$ it immensely ~~ if it
304:077,31[B  ]| really suits you."
304:077,32[D  ]| "I am so$5#1$ glad.  I thought perhaps you did not want to$9$
304:077,33[D  ]| go."
304:077,34['  ]| That$6#2$ same evening Jack and Victoria came across for$4$ a
304:077,35['  ]| few minutes.
304:077,36[B  ]| "Look at the lovely \8cacchi\,"  
304:077,36['  ]| said Harriet, giving the
304:077,37['  ]| persimmons their Italian name.  
304:077,37[B  ]| "William*James brought
304:077,38[B  ]| them me this morning."
304:077,39[X  ]| "William*James brought them!"  
304:077,39['  ]| cried Victoria and
304:077,40['  ]| Jack in$4$ a breath.  
304:077,40[X  ]| "Why, whatever have you done to$4$
304:077,41[X  ]| him?"
304:077,42[B  ]| "Nothing," 
304:077,42['  ]| laughed Harriet.  
304:077,42[B  ]| "I hope not, I am sure."
304:078,01[C  ]| "You must have given him a glad eye," 
304:078,01['  ]| said Jack.
304:078,02[C  ]| "Did he come in$5$?"
304:078,03[B  ]| "Yes, he came in$5$ and talked to$4$ me quite a long time.
304:078,04[B  ]| He said he would see you to-morrow in$4$ town."
304:078,05[C  ]| "Wonders never cease!  I tell you, you have done it on$4$
304:078,06[C  ]| him.  What did he talk to$4$ you about, then?"
304:078,07[B  ]| "Oh, Australia.  He said he did not think we should
304:078,08[B  ]| really like$1$ it."
304:078,09[C  ]| "He did, did he!  Wanted to$9$ warn you off, so$5#2$ to$9$ speak."
304:078,10[B  ]| "Perhaps," 
304:078,10['  ]| laughed Harriet.
304:078,11[C  ]| "The little mingo.  He is as deep as a five hundred feet
304:078,12[C  ]| boring, and I have never got down to$4$ sweet water in$4$ him
304:078,13[C  ]| yet."
304:078,14[B  ]| "Do not you trust him?"  
304:078,14['  ]| said Harriet.
304:078,15[C  ]| "Trust him?  Oh yes, he would never pick my pocket."
304:078,16[B  ]| "I did not mean that$6#2$."
304:078,17[C  ]| "That$6#2$ is the only way I have of trusting folks," 
304:078,17['  ]| said
304:078,18['  ]| Jack.
304:078,19[B  ]| "Then you do not trust them far," 
304:078,19['  ]| mocked Harriet.
304:078,20[C  ]| "Perhaps I do not.  And perhaps I am wise of it."
305:079,00@@@@@|
305:079,01['  ]| They went to$4$ Mullumbimby by$4$ the two o'clock train from
305:079,02['  ]| Sydney on$4$ the Friday afternoon, Jack having managed to$9$
305:079,03['  ]| get a day off for$4$ the occasion.  He was a sort of partner in$4$
305:079,04['  ]| the motor-works place where he was employed, so$3$ it was
305:079,05['  ]| not so$5#1$ difficult.  And work was slack.
305:079,06['  ]| Harriet and Victoria were both quite excited.  The
305:079,07['  ]| Somers had insisted on$4$ packing one basket of food for$4$ the
305:079,08['  ]| house, and Victoria had brought some dainties as well.
305:079,09['  ]| There were few people in$4$ the train, so$3$ they settled themselves
305:079,10['  ]| right at the front, in$4$ one of those long open second-class
305:079,11['  ]| coaches with many cane seats and a passage down the
305:079,12['  ]| middle.
305:079,13[D  ]| "This is really for$4$ the coal miners," 
305:079,13['  ]| said Victoria.
305:079,14[D  ]| "You will$1$ see they will$1$ get in$5$ when we get further down."
305:079,15['  ]| She was rather wistful, after the vague coolness that$6#1$ had
305:079,16['  ]| subsisted between the two households.  She was so$5#1$ happy
305:079,17['  ]| that$3$ Somers and Harriet were coming with her and Jack.
305:079,18['  ]| They made her feel ~~ she could hardly describe it ~~ but so$5#1$
305:079,19['  ]| safe, so$5#1$ happy and safe.  Whereas often enough, in$4$ spite
305:079,20['  ]| of the stalwart Jack, she felt like$4$ some piece of fluff blown
305:079,21['  ]| about on$4$ the air, now that$3$ she was taken from her own
305:079,22['  ]| home.  With Somers and Harriet she felt like$4$ a child that$6#1$
305:079,23['  ]| is with its parents, so$5#1$ lovely and secure, without any need
305:079,24['  ]| ever to$9$ look round.  Jack was a man, and everything a
305:079,25['  ]| man should be, in$4$ her eyes.  But he was also like$4$ a piece
305:079,26['  ]| of driftwood drifting on$4$ the strange unknown currents in$4$
305:079,27['  ]| an unexplored nowhere, without any place to$9$ arrive at.
305:079,28['  ]| Whereas, to$4$ Victoria, Harriet seemed to$9$ be rooted right
305:079,29['  ]| in$4$ the centre of everything, at last she could come to$4$
305:079,30['  ]| perfect rest in$4$ her, like$4$ a bird in$4$ a tree that$6#1$ remains
305:079,31['  ]| still firm when the floods are washing everything else about.
305:079,32['  ]| If only Somers would let her rest in$4$ Harriet and him.
305:079,33['  ]| But he seemed to$9$ have a strange vindictiveness somewhere
305:079,34['  ]| in$4$ his nature, that$6#1$ turned round on$4$ her and terrified her
305:079,35['  ]| worse than before.  If he would only be fond of her, that$6#2$
305:079,36['  ]| was what she wanted.  If he would only be fond of her,
305:079,37['  ]| and not ever really leave her.  Not love.  When she
305:079,38['  ]| thought of lovers, she thought of something quite different.
305:080,01['  ]| Something rather vulgar, rather common, more or less
305:080,02['  ]| naughty.  
305:080,02@d   | Ah no$7$, he was not like$4$ that$6#2$.  
305:080,02['  ]| And yet ~~ since all
305:080,03['  ]| men are potential lovers to$4$ every woman ~~ 
305:080,03@d   | would not it be
305:080,04@d   | terrible if he asked for$4$ love.  Terrible ~~ but wonderful.
305:080,05@d   | Not a bit like$4$ Jack ~~  not a bit.  Would Harriet mind?
305:080,06['  ]| Victoria looked at Harriet with her quick, bright, shy
305:080,07['  ]| brown eyes.  Harriet looked so$5#1$ handsome and distant:
305:080,08['  ]| she was a little afraid of her.  Not as she was afraid of
305:080,09['  ]| Somers.  Afraid as one woman is of another fierce woman.
305:080,10@d   | Harriet was fierce, 
305:080,10['  ]| Victoria decided.  
305:080,10@d   | Somers was
305:080,11@d   | demonish, but could be gentle and kind.
305:080,12['  ]| It came on$5$ to$9$ rain, streaming down the carriage windows.
305:080,13['  ]| Jack lit a cigarette, and offered one to$4$ Harriet.  She,
305:080,14['  ]| though she knew Somers disliked it intensely when she
305:080,15['  ]| smoked, particularly in$4$ a public place like$4$ this long, open
305:080,16['  ]| railway carriage, accepted, and sat by$4$ the closed window
305:080,17['  ]| smoking.
305:080,18['  ]| The train ran for$4$ a long time through Sydney, or the
305:080,19['  ]| endless outsides of Sydney.  The town took almost as much
305:080,20['  ]| leaving as London does.  But it was different.  Instead of
305:080,21['  ]| solid rows of houses, solid streets like$4$ London, it was
305:080,22['  ]| mostly innumerable detached bungalows and cottages,
305:080,23['  ]| spreading for$4$ great distances, scattering over hills, low
305:080,24['  ]| hills and shallow inclines.  And then waste marshy places,
305:080,25['  ]| and old iron, and abortive corrugated iron "works" ~~ all
305:080,26['  ]| like$4$ the Last Day of creation, instead of a new country.
305:080,27['  ]| Away to$4$ the left they saw the shallow waters of the big
305:080,28['  ]| opening where Botany*Bay is:  the sandy shores, the factory
305:080,29['  ]| chimneys, the lonely places where it is still Bush.  And the
305:080,30['  ]| weary half established straggling of more suburb.
305:080,31['  ]| "Como," said the station sign.  And they ran on$4$ bridges
305:080,32['  ]| over two arms of water from the sea, and they saw what
305:080,33['  ]| looked like$4$ a long lake with wooded shores and bungalows:
305:080,34['  ]| a bit like$4$ Lake*Como, but oh, so$5#1$ unlike.  That$6#2$ curious
305:080,35['  ]| sombreness of Australia, the sense of oldness, with the
305:080,36['  ]| forms all worn down low and blunt, squat.  The squat-seeming
305:080,37['  ]| earth.  And then they ran at last into real country
305:080,38['  ]| rather rocky, dark old rocks, and sombre bush with its
305:080,39['  ]| different pale-stemmed dull-leaved gum-trees standing
305:080,40['  ]| graceful, and various healthy looking undergrowth, and
305:080,41['  ]| great spikey things like$4$ zuccas.  As they turned south they
305:080,42['  ]| saw tree-ferns standing on$4$ one knobbly leg among the
305:081,01['  ]| gums, and among the rocks ordinary ferns and small
305:081,02['  ]| bushes spreading in$4$ glades and up$4$ sharp hill-slopes.  It
305:081,03['  ]| was virgin bush, and as if unvisited, lost, sombre, with
305:081,04['  ]| plenty of space, yet spreading grey for$4$ miles and miles, in$4$
305:081,05['  ]| a hollow towards the west.  Far in$4$ the west, the sky having
305:081,06['  ]| suddenly cleared, they saw the magical range of the Blue*Mountains.
305:081,07['  ]| And all this hoary space of bush between.
305:081,08['  ]| The strange, as it were, \invisible\ beauty of Australia,
305:081,09['  ]| which$6#1$ is undeniably there, but which$6#1$ seems to$9$ lurk just
305:081,10['  ]| beyond the range of our white vision.  You feel you can not
305:081,11['  ]| \see\ ~~ as if your eyes had not the vision in$4$ them to$9$ correspond
305:081,12['  ]| with the outside landscape.  For$3$ the landscape is so$5#1$ unimpressive,
305:081,13['  ]| like$4$ a face with little or no$2$ features, a dark face.
305:081,14['  ]| It is so$5#1$ aboriginal, out of our ken, and it hangs back so$5#1$
305:081,15['  ]| aloof.  Somers always felt he looked at it through a cleft
305:081,16['  ]| in$4$ the atmosphere; as one looks at one of the ugly-faced,
305:081,17['  ]| distorted aborigines with his wonderful dark eyes that$6#1$ have
305:081,18['  ]| such a incomprehensible ancient shine in$4$ them, across gulfs
305:081,19['  ]| of unbridged centuries.  And yet, when you do not have
305:081,20['  ]| the feeling of ugliness or monotony, in$4$ landscape or in$4$
305:081,21['  ]| nigger, you get a sense of subtle, remote, \formless\ beauty
305:081,22['  ]| more poignant than anything ever experienced before.
305:081,23[B  ]| "Your wonderful Australia!"  
305:081,23['  ]| said Harriet to$4$ Jack.
305:081,24[B  ]| "I can not tell you how it moves me.  It feels as if no*one
305:081,25[B  ]| had ever loved it.  Do you know what I mean?  England
305:081,26[B  ]| and Germany and Italy and Egypt and India ~~ they have all
305:081,27[B  ]| been loved so$5#1$ passionately.  But Australia feels as if it
305:081,28[B  ]| had never been loved, and never come out into the open.
305:081,29[B  ]| As if man had never loved it, and made it a happy
305:081,30[B  ]| country, a bride country ~~ or a mother country."
305:081,31[C  ]| "I do not suppose they ever have," 
305:081,31['  ]| said Jack.
305:081,32[B  ]| "But they will$1$?" 
305:081,32['  ]| asked Harriet.  
305:081,32[B  ]| "Surely they will$1$.
305:081,33[B  ]| I feel that$3$ if I were Australian, I should love the very
305:081,34[B  ]| earth of it ~~ the very sand and dryness of it ~~ more than
305:081,35[B  ]| anything."
305:081,36[D  ]| "Where should we poor Australian wives be?"  
305:081,36['  ]| put in$5$
305:081,37['  ]| Victoria, leaning forward her delicate, frail face ~~ that$6#1$
305:081,38['  ]| reminded one of a flickering butterfly in$4$ its wavering.
305:081,39[B  ]| "Yes."  
305:081,39['  ]| said Harriet meditatively, as if they had to$9$ be
305:081,40['  ]| considered, but were not as important as the other question..
305:081,41['  ]|
305:081,42[C  ]| "I am afraid most Australians come to$9$ hate the Australian
305:082,01[C  ]| earth a good bit before they are done with it," 
305:082,01['  ]| said
305:082,02['  ]| Jack.  
305:082,02[C  ]| "If you call the land a bride, she is the sort of
305:082,03[C  ]| bride not many of us are willing to$9$ tackle.  She drinks
305:082,04[C  ]| your sweat and your blood, and then as often as not lets
305:082,05[C  ]| you down, does you in$5$."
305:082,06[B  ]| "Of course," 
305:082,06['  ]| said Harriet, 
305:082,06[B  ]| "it will$1$ take time.  And of
305:082,07[B  ]| course a \lot\ of love.  A lot of fierce love, too."
305:082,08[C  ]| "Let us hope she gets it," 
305:082,08['  ]| said Jack.  
305:082,08[C  ]| "They treat the
305:082,09[C  ]| country more like$4$ a woman they pick up$5$ on$4$ the streets
305:082,10[C  ]| than a bride, to$4$ my thinking."
305:082,11[B  ]| "I feel I could \love\ Australia," 
305:082,11['  ]| declared Harriet.
305:082,12[C  ]| "Do you feel you could love an Australian?"  
305:082,12['  ]| asked
305:082,13['  ]| Jack, very much to$4$ the point.
305:082,14[B  ]| "Well," 
305:082,14['  ]| said Harriet, arching her eyes at him, 
305:082,14[B  ]| "that$6#2$ is
305:082,15[B  ]| another matter.  From what I see of them I rather doubt
305:082,16[B  ]| it," 
305:082,16['  ]| she laughed, teasing him.
305:082,17[C  ]| "I should say you would.  But it is no$2$ good loving
305:082,18[C  ]| Australia if you can not love the Australian."
305:082,19[B  ]| "Yes, it is.  If as you say Australia is like$4$ the poor
305:082,20[B  ]| prostitute, and the Australian just bullies her to$9$ get what
305:082,21[B  ]| he can out of her and then treats her like$4$ dirt."
305:082,22[C  ]| "It is a good deal like$4$ that$6#2$," 
305:082,22['  ]| said Jack.
305:082,23[B  ]| "And then you expect me to$9$ approve of you."
305:082,24[C  ]| "Oh, we are not all alike, you know."
305:082,25[A  ]| "It always seems to$4$ me," 
305:082,25['  ]| said Somers, 
305:082,25[A  ]| "that$3$ somebody
305:082,26[A  ]| will$1$ have to$9$ water Australia with their blood before it is a
305:082,27[A  ]| real man's country.  The soil, the very plants seem to$9$ be
305:082,28[A  ]| waiting for$4$ it."
305:082,29[C  ]| "You have got a lurid imagination, my dear man," 
305:082,29['  ]| said
305:082,30['  ]| Jack.
305:082,31[B  ]| "Yes, he has," 
305:082,31['  ]| said Harriet.  
305:082,31[B  ]| "He is always so$5#1$
305:082,32[B  ]| extreme."
305:082,33['  ]| The train jogged on$5$, stopping at every little station.
305:082,34['  ]| They were near the coast, but for$4$ a long time the sea was
305:082,35['  ]| not in$4$ sight.  The land grew steeper ~~ dark, straight hills
305:082,36['  ]| like$4$ cliffs, masked in$4$ sombre trees.  And then the first
305:082,37['  ]| plume of colliery smoke among the trees on$4$ the hill-face.
305:082,38['  ]| But they were little collieries, for$4$ the most part, where the
305:082,39['  ]| men just walked into the face of the hill down a tunnel,
305:082,40['  ]| and they hardly disfigured the land at all.  Then the train
305:082,41['  ]| came out on$4$ the sea ~~ lovely bays with sand and grass and
305:082,42['  ]| trees, sloping up$5$ towards the sudden hills that$6#1$ were like$4$
305:083,01['  ]| a wall.  There were bungalows dotted in$4$ most of the bays.
305:083,02['  ]| Then suddenly more collieries, and quite a large settlement
305:083,03['  ]| of bungalows.  From the train they looked down on$4$
305:083,04['  ]| many many pale-grey zinc roofs, sprinkled about like$4$ a
305:083,05['  ]| great camp, close together, yet none touching, and getting
305:083,06['  ]| thinner towards the sea.  The chimneys were faintly
305:083,07['  ]| smoking, there was a haze of smoke and a sense of home,
305:083,08['  ]| home in$4$ the wilds.  A little way off, among the trees,
305:083,09['  ]| plumes of white steam betrayed more collieries.
305:083,10['  ]| A bunch of schoolboys clambered into the train with
305:083,11['  ]| their satchels, at home as schoolboys are.  And several
305:083,12['  ]| black colliers, with tin luncheon boxes.  Then the train
305:083,13['  ]| ran for$4$ a mile and a half, to$9$ stop at another little settlement.
305:083,14['  ]| Sometimes they stopped at beautiful bays in$4$ a
305:083,15['  ]| hollow between hills, and no$2$ collieries, only a few
305:083,16['  ]| bungalows.  Harriet hoped Mullumbimby was like$4$ that$6#2$.
305:083,17['  ]| She rather dreaded the settlements with the many many
305:083,18['  ]| iron roofs, and the wide, unmade roads of sandy earth
305:083,19['  ]| running between, down to$4$ the sea, or skirting swamp-like
305:083,20['  ]| little creeks.
305:083,21['  ]| The train jogged on$5$ again ~~ they were there.  The place
305:083,22['  ]| was half and half.  There were many tin roofs ~~ but not
305:083,23['  ]| \so$5#1$\ many.  There were the wide, unmade roads running so$5#1$
305:083,24['  ]| straight as it were to$4$ nowhere, with little bungalow homes
305:083,25['  ]| half-lost at the side.  But they were pleasant little
305:083,26['  ]| bungalow homes.  Then quite near, inland, rose a great
305:083,27['  ]| black wall of mountain, or cliff, or tor, a vast dark tree-covered
305:083,28['  ]| tor that$6#1$ reminded Harriet of Matlock, only much
305:083,29['  ]| bigger.  The town trailed down from the foot of this
305:083,30['  ]| mountain towards the railway, a huddle of grey and red-painted
305:083,31['  ]| iron roofs.  Then over the railway, towards the
305:083,32['  ]| sea, it began again in$4$ a scattered, spasmodic fashion,
305:083,33['  ]| rather forlorn bungalows and new "stores" and fields
305:083,34['  ]| with rail fences, and more bungalows above the fields, and
305:083,35['  ]| more still running down the creek shallows towards the
305:083,36['  ]| hollow sea, which$6#1$ lay beyond like$4$ a grey mound, the
305:083,37['  ]| strangest sight Harriet had ever seen.
305:083,38['  ]| Next to$4$ the railway was a field, with men and youths
305:083,39['  ]| playing football for$4$ their lives.  Across the road from the
305:083,40['  ]| football field was a barber's shop, where a man on$4$ horseback
305:083,41['  ]| was leaning chattering to$4$ the barber, a young intelligent
305:083,42['  ]| gentleman in$4$ eye-glasses.  And on$4$ the broad grass
305:084,01['  ]| of the roadside grew the trees with the bright scarlet flowers
305:084,02['  ]| perching among the grey twigs.
305:084,03['  ]| Going towards the sea they were going away from the
305:084,04['  ]| town that$6#1$ slid down at the bush-covered foot of the dark
305:084,05['  ]| tor.  The sun was just sinking to$4$ this great hill face, amid
305:084,06['  ]| a curdle of grey-white clouds.  The faintest gold reflected
305:084,07['  ]| in$4$ the more open eastern sky, in$4$ front.  Strange and forlorn,
305:084,08['  ]| the wide sandy-rutted road with the broad grass
305:084,09['  ]| margin and just one or two bungalows.  "Verdun" was
305:084,10['  ]| the first, a wooden house painted dark red.  But some had
305:084,11['  ]| quite wide grass round them, inside their fences, like$4$ real
305:084,12['  ]| lawns.
305:084,13['  ]| Victoria had to$9$ dart to$4$ the house-agent for$4$ the key.
305:084,14['  ]| The other three turned to$4$ the left, up$4$ another wide road
305:084,15['  ]| cut in$4$ the almost nothingness, past two straying bungalows
305:084,16['  ]| perched on$4$ brick supports ~~ then across a piece of grassland
305:084,17['  ]| as yet unoccupied, where small boys were kicking a
305:084,18['  ]| football ~~ then round the corner of another new road, where
305:084,19['  ]| water lay in$4$ a great puddle so$3$ that$3$ they had to$9$ climb on$5$
305:084,20['  ]| to$4$ the grass beside the fence of a big red-painted bungalow.
305:084,21['  ]| Across the road was a big bungalow built with imitation
305:084,22['  ]| timbered walls and a red corrugated roof and red huge
305:084,23['  ]| water-tanks.  The sea roared loudly, but was not in$4$ sight.
305:084,24['  ]| Next along the forlorn little road nestled a real bright red-tiled
305:084,25['  ]| roof among a high bushy hedge, and with a white
305:084,26['  ]| gate.
305:084,27[B  ]| "I do hope it is that$6#2$," 
305:084,27['  ]| said Harriet to$4$ herself.  She was
305:084,28['  ]| so$5#1$ yearning to$9$ find another home.
305:084,29['  ]| Jack stood waiting at the corner on$4$ the tall bit of grassy
305:084,30['  ]| land above the muddy, cut-out road.  There came Victoria
305:084,31['  ]| running in$4$ her eager way across the open space up$4$ the
305:084,32['  ]| slight incline.  Evening was beginning to$9$ fall.
305:084,33[C  ]| "Got them?"  
305:084,33['  ]| called Jack.
305:084,34[D  ]| "Yes.  Mrs*Wynne was just washing herself, so$3$ I had
305:084,35[D  ]| to$9$ wait a minute."  
305:084,35['  ]| Victoria came panting up$5$.
305:084,36[B  ]| "Is that$6#2$ it?"  
305:084,36['  ]| said Harriet timidly at last, pointing to$4$
305:084,37['  ]| the bright red roof.
305:084,38[C  ]| "Yes, that$6#2$ is it," 
305:084,38['  ]| said Victoria, pleased and proprietary.
305:084,39['  ]| A boy from the big red bungalow called to$9$ ask if he should
305:084,40['  ]| bring milk across.  The big red bungalow was a dairy.
305:084,41['  ]| But Harriet followed eagerly on$4$ Jack's footsteps across the
305:084,42['  ]| road.  She peeped over the white gate as he unfastened it.
305:085,01@b   | A real lovely brick house, with a roof of bright red tiles
305:085,02@b   | coming down very low over dark wooden verandahs, and
305:085,03@b   | huge round rain-tanks, and a bit of grass and a big shed
305:085,04@b   | with double doors.  Joy!  
305:085,04['  ]| The gate was open, and she
305:085,05['  ]| rushed in$5$, under the tall, over-leaning hedge that$6#1$ separated
305:085,06['  ]| them from the neighbour, and that$6#1$ reached almost to$9$ touch
305:085,07['  ]| the side of her house.  A wooden side verandah with bedsteads ~~
305:085,08['  ]| old rusty bedsteads patched with strip and rope ~~ 
305:085,09['  ]| and then grass, a little front all of grass, with loose hedges
305:085,10['  ]| on$4$ either side ~~ and the sea, the great Pacific right there
305:085,11['  ]| and rolling in$4$ huge white thunderous rollers not forty yards
305:085,12['  ]| away, under her grassy platform of a garden.  She
305:085,13['  ]| walked to$4$ the edge of the grass.  
305:085,13@b   | Yes, just down the low
305:085,14@b   | cliff, really only a bank, went her own little path, as
305:085,15@b   | down a steep bank, and then was smooth yellow sand, and
305:085,16@b   | the long sea swishing white up$4$ its incline, and rocks to$4$
305:085,17@b   | the left, and incredible long rollers furling over and crushing
305:085,18@b   | down on$4$ the shore.  At her feet!  At her very feet,
305:085,19@b   | the huge rhythmic Pacific.
305:085,20['  ]| She turned to$4$ the house.  
305:085,20@b   | There it crouched, with its
305:085,21@b   | long windows and its wide verandah and its various slopes
305:085,22@b   | of low, red-tiled roofs.  Perfect!  Perfect!  
305:085,22['  ]| The sun had
305:085,23['  ]| gone down behind the great front of black mountain wall
305:085,24['  ]| which$6#1$ she could still see over the hedge.  
305:085,24@b   | The house inside
305:085,25@b   | was dark, with its deep verandahs like$4$ dark eyelids half
305:085,26@b   | closed.  Somebody switched on$5$ a light.  Long cottage
305:085,27@b   | windows, and a white ceiling with narrow dark beams.
305:085,28['  ]| She rushed indoors.  
305:085,28@b   | Once more in$4$ search of a home, to$9$ be
305:085,29@b   | alone with Lovat, where he would be happy.  How the
305:085,30@b   | sea thundered!
305:085,31['  ]| Harriet liked the house extremely.  
305:085,31@b   | It was beautifully
305:085,32@b   | built, solid, in$4$ the good English fashion.  It had a great
305:085,33@b   | big room with dark jarrah timbering on$4$ the roof and the
305:085,34@b   | walls:  it had a dark jarrah floor, and doors, and some
305:085,35@b   | solid, satisfactory jarrah furniture, a big, real table and a
305:085,36@b   | sideboard and strong square chairs with cane seats.  The
305:085,37@b   | Lord had sent her here, that$6#2$ was certain.
305:085,38['  ]| And how delighted Victoria was with her raptures.
305:085,39['  ]| Jack whipped his coat off and went to$4$ the shed for$4$ wood
305:085,40['  ]| and coal, and soon had a lavish fire in$4$ the open hearth.
305:085,41['  ]| A boy came with milk, and another with bread and fresh
305:085,42['  ]| butter and eggs, ordered by$4$ Mrs*Wynne.  The big black
305:086,01['  ]| kettle was on$4$ the fire.  And Harriet took Lovat's arm, she
305:086,02['  ]| was so$5#1$ moved.
305:086,03['  ]| Through the open seaward door, as they sat at the table,
305:086,04['  ]| the near sea was glimmering pale and greenish in$4$ the sunset,
305:086,05['  ]| and breaking with a crash of foam right, as it seemed,
305:086,06['  ]| under the house.  If the house had not stood with its little
305:086,07['  ]| grassy garden some thirty or forty feet above the ocean,
305:086,08['  ]| sometimes the foam would have flown to$4$ the doorstep, or
305:086,09['  ]| to$4$ the steps of the loggia.  The great sea roaring at one's
305:086,10['  ]| feet!
305:086,11['  ]| After the evening meal the women were busy making up$5$
305:086,12['  ]| beds and tidying round, while the men sat by$4$ the fire.
305:086,13['  ]| Jack was quiet, he seemed to$9$ brood, and only spoke
305:086,14['  ]| abstractedly, vaguely.  He just sucked his pipe and stared
305:086,15['  ]| in$4$ the fire, while the sea boomed outside, and the voices
305:086,16['  ]| of the women were heard eager in$4$ the bedrooms.  When
305:086,17['  ]| one of the doors leading on$5$ to$4$ the verandahs was opened,
305:086,18['  ]| the noise of the sea came in$5$ frightening, like$4$ guns.
305:086,19['  ]| The house had been let for$4$ seven months to$4$ a man and
305:086,20['  ]| wife with eleven children.  When Somers got up$5$ at sunrise,
305:086,21['  ]| in$4$ the morning, he could well believe it.  But the
305:086,22['  ]| sun rose golden from a low fume of haze in$4$ the north-eastern
305:086,23['  ]| sea.  The waves rolled in$5$ pale and bluey, glass-green,
305:086,24['  ]| wonderfully heavy and liquid.  They curved with
305:086,25['  ]| a long arch, then fell in$4$ a great hollow thud and a spurt
305:086,26['  ]| of white foam and a long, soft, snow-pure rush of forward
305:086,27['  ]| flat foam.  Somers watched the crest of fine, bristling
305:086,28['  ]| spume fly back from the head of the waves as they turned
305:086,29['  ]| and broke.  The sea was all yellow-green light.
305:086,30['  ]| And through the light came a low, black tramp steamer,
305:086,31['  ]| lurching up$5$ and down on$4$ the waves, disappearing altogether
305:086,32['  ]| in$4$ the lustrous water, save for$4$ her bit of yellow-banded
305:086,33['  ]| funnel and her mast-tips:  then emerging like$4$ some
305:086,34['  ]| long, out-of-shape dolphin on$4$ a wave-top.  She was like$4$
305:086,35['  ]| some lost mongrel running over a furrowed land.  She
305:086,36['  ]| bellowed and barked forlornly, and hung round on$4$ the
305:086,37['  ]| up-and-down waves.
305:086,38['  ]| Somers saw what she wanted.  At the south end of the
305:086,39['  ]| shallow bay was a long, high jetty straddling on$4$ great tree-trunk
305:086,40['  ]| poles out on$5$ to$4$ the sea, and carrying a long line of
305:086,41['  ]| little red-coal trucks, the sort that$6#1$ can be tipped up$5$.
305:086,42['  ]| Beyond the straddling jetty was a spit of low, yellow-brown
305:087,01['  ]| land, grassy, with a stiff little group of trees like$4$
305:087,02['  ]| ragged Noah's ark trees, and further in$5$, a little farm-place
305:087,03['  ]| with two fascinating big gum-trees that$6#1$ stuck out their
305:087,04['  ]| clots of foliage in$4$ dark tufts at the end of slim, up-starting
305:087,05['  ]| branches.
305:087,06['  ]| But the lines from the jetty ran inland for$4$ two hundred
305:087,07['  ]| yards, to$4$ where a tiny colliery was pluming steam and
305:087,08['  ]| smoke from beyond a marsh-like little creek.  The steamer
305:087,09['  ]| wanted to$9$ land.  She saw the line of little trucks full and
305:087,10['  ]| ready.  She bellowed like$4$ a miserable cow, sloping up$5$ and
305:087,11['  ]| down and turning round on$4$ the waters of the bay.  Near
305:087,12['  ]| the jetty the foam broke high on$4$ some sheltering rocks.
305:087,13['  ]| The steamer seemed to$9$ watch yearningly, like$4$ a dog outside
305:087,14['  ]| a shut door.  A little figure walked along the jetty, slowly,
305:087,15['  ]| unconcernedly.  The steamer bellowed again.  The figure 
305:087,16['  ]| reached the end of the jetty, and hung out a red flag.
305:087,17['  ]| Then the steamer shouted no$2$ more, but slowly, fearfully
305:087,18['  ]| turned and slunk up$4$ and down the waves back towards
305:087,19['  ]| Sydney.
305:087,20['  ]| The jetty ~~ the forlorn pale-brown grassy bank running
305:087,21['  ]| out to$4$ sea, with the clump of sharp, hard-pointed dark
305:087,22['  ]| conifers, trees of the southern hemisphere, stiff and
305:087,23['  ]| mechanical; then the foreshore with yellow sand and
305:087,24['  ]| rollers; then two bungalows, and a bit of waste ground
305:087,25['  ]| full of tins; that$6#2$ was the southern aspect.  Northwards,
305:087,26['  ]| next door, was the big imitation black and white bungalow,
305:087,27['  ]| with a tuft of wind-blown trees and half-dead hedge
305:087,28['  ]| between it and the Somers' house.  That$6#2$ was north.  And
305:087,29['  ]| the sun was already sloping upwards and northwards.  It
305:087,30['  ]| gave Somers an uneasy feeling, the northward travelling
305:087,31['  ]| of the climbing sun:  as if everything had gone wrong.
305:087,32['  ]| Inland, lit up$5$ dark grey with its plumy trees in$4$ the morning
305:087,33['  ]| light, was the great mountain or tor, with bare, greying
305:087,34['  ]| rock showing near the top, and above the ridge-top the
305:087,35['  ]| pure blue sky, so$5#1$ bright and absolutely unsullied, it was
305:087,36['  ]| always a wonder.  There was an unspeakable beauty about
305:087,37['  ]| the morning, the great sun from the sea, such a big,
305:087,38['  ]| untamed, proud sun, rising up$5$ into a sky of such tender
305:087,39['  ]| delicacy, blue, so$5#1$ blue, and yet so$5#1$ frail that$3$ even blue
305:087,40['  ]| seems too coarse a colour to$9$ describe it, more virgin than
305:087,41['  ]| humanity can conceive; the land inward lit up$5$, the prettiness
305:087,42['  ]| of many painted bungalows with tin roofs clustering
305:088,01['  ]| up$4$ the low up-slopes of the grey-treed bush; and then
305:088,02['  ]| rising like$4$ a wall, facing the light and still lightless, the
305:088,03['  ]| tor face, with its high-up rim so$5#1$ grey, having tiny trees
305:088,04['  ]| feathering against the most beautiful frail sky in$4$ the world.
305:088,05['  ]| Morning!
305:088,06['  ]| But Somers turned to$4$ the house.  It stood on$4$ one of the
305:088,07['  ]| regulation lots, probably fifty feet by$4$ a hundred and fifty.
305:088,08['  ]| The bit of level grass in$4$ front was only fifty feet wide, and
305:088,09['  ]| perhaps about the same from the house to$4$ the brim of the
305:088,10['  ]| sea-bank, which$6#1$ dropped bushily down some forty feet to$4$
305:088,11['  ]| the sand and the flat shore-rocks and the ocean.  But
305:088,12['  ]| this grassy garden was littered with bits of rag, and
305:088,13['  ]| newspapers, sea-shells, tins and old sponges.  And the
305:088,14['  ]| lot next to$4$ it was a marvellous constellation of tin
305:088,15['  ]| cans in$4$ every stage of rustiness, if you peeped between
305:088,16['  ]| the bushes.
305:088,17[A  ]| "You will$1$ take the ashes and the rubbish too?"  
305:088,17['  ]| said
305:088,18['  ]| Somers to$4$ the sanitary-man who$6#1$ came to$9$ take the sanitary
305:088,19['  ]| tin of the earth-closet every Monday morning.
305:088,20[W  ]| "No$7$," 
305:088,20['  ]| responded that$6#2$ individual briefly:  a true
305:088,21['  ]| Australian-Cockney answer, impossible to$9$ spell.  A sort
305:088,22['  ]| of \neow\ sound.
305:088,23[A  ]| "Does anybody take them?"
305:088,24[W  ]| "Neow.  We take no$2$ garbage."
305:088,25[A  ]| "Then what do I do with them?"
305:088,26[W  ]| "Do what you like$1$ with them."  
305:088,26['  ]| And he marched off
305:088,27['  ]| with the can.  It was not rudeness.  It was a kind of
305:088,28['  ]| colonial humour.
305:088,29['  ]| After this Somers surveyed the cans and garbage of the
305:088,30['  ]| next lot, under the bushes and everywhere, with colonial
305:088,31['  ]| hopelessness.  But he began at once to$9$ pick up$5$ rags and
305:088,32['  ]| cans from his own grass.
305:088,33['  ]| The house was very pretty, and beautifully built.  But
305:088,34['  ]| it showed all signs of the eleven children.  On$4$ the verandah
305:088,35['  ]| at the side, on$4$ either side of the "visitors" door, was a
305:088,36['  ]| bed:  one a huge family iron bedstead with an indescribably
305:088,37['  ]| rusty, saggy wire mattress, the other a single iron bedstead
305:088,38['  ]| with the wire mattress all burst and so$5#1$ mended with a
305:088,39['  ]| criss-cross of ropes.  These beds were screened from the
305:088,40['  ]| sea-wind by$4$ sacks, old pieces of awful carpeting, and pieces
305:088,41['  ]| of linoleum tacked to$4$ the side of the verandah.  The same
305:088,42['  ]| happened on$4$ the third side of the house:  two more rope-mended
305:089,01['  ]| iron bedsteads, and a nailed up$5$ lot of unspeakable
305:089,02['  ]| rags to$9$ screen from the wind.
305:089,03['  ]| The house had three little bedrooms, one opening from
305:089,04['  ]| each of the side verandahs, and one from the big central
305:089,05['  ]| room.  Each contained two saggy single beds.  That$6#2$ was
305:089,06['  ]| five people.  Remained seven, with the father and mother.
305:089,07['  ]| Three children must have gone into a huge bed by$4$ the
305:089,08['  ]| side entrance door, and the other four must have been
305:089,09['  ]| sprinkled over the other three outside, rope-mended beds.
305:089,10['  ]| The bungalow contained only the big room with five
305:089,11['  ]| doors:  one on$4$ each side the fire-place, opening into the
305:089,12['  ]| inner bedroom and the kitchen respectively, and on$4$ each
305:089,13['  ]| of the other three sides a door opening on$5$ to$4$ the verandah.
305:089,14['  ]| From the kitchen opened a little pantry and a zinc-floored
305:089,15['  ]| cubby hole fitted with the inevitable Australian douche
305:089,16['  ]| and a little sink-hole to$9$ carry off the water.  This was the
305:089,17['  ]| bathroom.  There it was, all compact and nice, two outer
305:089,18['  ]| bedrooms on$4$ the wings, and for$4$ the central block, the big
305:089,19['  ]| room in$4$ front, the bedroom and kitchen at the back.  The
305:089,20['  ]| kitchen door opened on$5$ to$4$ the bit of grass at the back,
305:089,21['  ]| near the shed.
305:089,22['  ]| It was a well-built little place, amazing in$4$ a world of
305:089,23['  ]| wood and tin shacks.  But Somers would not have liked
305:089,24['  ]| to$9$ live in$4$ it with a thirteen-people family.  There were
305:089,25['  ]| eleven white breakfast cups, of which$6#1$ nine had smashed
305:089,26['  ]| handles and broad tin substitutes quite cannily put on$5$.
305:089,27['  ]| There were two saucers only.  And all the rest to$9$ match:
305:089,28['  ]| seven large brown teapots, of which$6#1$ five had broken
305:089,29['  ]| spouts:  not one whole dish or basin of any sort, except a
305:089,30['  ]| sauce boat.  And rats!  \Torestin\ was a clean and ratless
305:089,31['  ]| spot compared with \Coo-ee\.  
305:089,31@c   | For$3$ the house was called
305:089,32@c   | \Coo-ee\, to$9$ fetch the rats in$5$, 
305:089,32['  ]| Jack said.
305:089,33['  ]| The women flew at the house with hot water and soda.
305:089,34['  ]| Jack and Somers spent the morning removing bedsteads
305:089,35['  ]| into the shed, tearing down the horrid rag-and-dirt screens,
305:089,36['  ]| pulling out the nails with which$6#1$ these screens had been
305:089,37['  ]| held in$4$ place, and pulling out the hundreds of nails which$6#1$
305:089,38['  ]| had nailed down the dirt-grey, thin carpet as if forever to$4$
305:089,39['  ]| the floor of the big room.  Then they banged and battered
305:089,40['  ]| this thin old patternless carpet, and washed it with soda
305:089,41['  ]| and water.  And then they banged and battered the two
305:089,42['  ]| sofas, that$6#1$ were like$4$ sandbags, so$5#1$ full of sand and dust.
305:090,01['  ]| And they took down all the ugly, dirt filmed pictures of the
305:090,02['  ]| Dana*Gibson sort, and the 
305:090,02@z   | "My refuge is in$4$ God" 
305:090,02['  ]| text.
305:090,03[C  ]| "I should think so$5#2$," 
305:090,03['  ]| said Jack.  
305:090,03[C  ]| "Away from the
305:090,04[C  ]| muck they had made down here."
305:090,05['  ]| Like$4$ demons the four of them flew at this \Coo-ee\ house,
305:090,06['  ]| and afternoon saw Jack and Somers polishing floors with
305:090,07['  ]| a stuff called glowax, and Harriet and Victoria putting
305:090,08['  ]| clean papers on$4$ all the shelves, and arranging the battered
305:090,09['  ]| remnant of well-washed white crockery.
305:090,10[D  ]| "The crockery is the worst item here," 
305:090,10['  ]| said Victoria.
305:090,11[D  ]| "You pay three-and-six and four shillings for$4$ one of
305:090,12[D  ]| these cups and saucers, and four-and-six for$4$ a common
305:090,13[D  ]| brown quart jug, and twelve guineas for$4$ a white dinner
305:090,14[D  ]| service."
305:090,15['  ]| Harried looked at the horrid breakfast stuff aghast.
305:090,16[B  ]| "I feel like$4$ buying a tin mug at once," 
305:090,16['  ]| she said.
305:090,17['  ]| But Victoria did not bother.  She took it all as it came.
305:090,18['  ]| The people with the eleven children had paid three and a
305:090,19['  ]| half guineas a week for$4$ seven months for$4$ the house.
305:090,20['  ]| At three o'clock Victoria's brother, a shy youth of seventeen,
305:090,21['  ]| arrived in$4$ a buggy and drove Jack and Victoria away
305:090,22['  ]| the four miles to$4$ the home of the latter.  Somers and
305:090,23['  ]| Harriet had tea alone.
305:090,24[B  ]| "But I love and adore the place," 
305:090,24['  ]| said Harriet.
305:090,25[B  ]| "Victoria says we can have it for$4$ thirty shillings a week,
305:090,26[B  ]| and if they would let you off even half of the month for$4$
305:090,27[B  ]| Torestin, we should be saving."
305:090,28['  ]| The Callcotts arrived home in$4$ the early dark.
305:090,29[D  ]| "Oh, but does not the house smell different," 
305:090,29['  ]| cried
305:090,30['  ]| Victoria.
305:090,31[C  ]| "Beeswax and turps," 
305:090,31['  ]| said Jack.  
305:090,31[C  ]| "Not a bad smell."
305:090,32['  ]| Again the evening passed quietly.  Jack had not been
305:090,33['  ]| his own boisterous self at all.  He was silent, and you
305:090,34['  ]| could not get at him.  Victoria looked at him curiously,
305:090,35['  ]| wondering, and tried to$9$ draw him out.  He laughed and
305:090,36['  ]| was pleasant enough, but relapsed into silence, as if he
305:090,37['  ]| were sad, or gloomy.
305:090,38['  ]| In$4$ the morning sunlight Harriet and Somers were out
305:090,39['  ]| first, after Somers had made the fire, having a frightened
305:090,40['  ]| dip in$4$ the sandy foam.  They kept far back from the
305:090,41['  ]| great rollers, which$6#1$, as the two sat in$4$ the dribbling back-wash,
305:090,42['  ]| reared up$5$ so$5#1$ huge and white and fanged in$4$ a front
305:091,01['  ]| attack, that$3$ Harriet always rose and ran, and it was long
305:091,02['  ]| before she got really wet.  And then when they did
305:091,03['  ]| venture to$9$ sit in$4$ a foot of water, up$5$ came a sudden flush
305:091,04['  ]| and flung then helpless rolling a dozen yards in$5$, and
305:091,05['  ]| banged them against the pebbles.  It was distinctly surprising.
305:091,06['  ]| Somers had never known that$3$ he weighed so$5#1$
305:091,07['  ]| little, that$3$, he was such a scrap of unimportance.  And he
305:091,08['  ]| still dared not quite imagine the whole of the blind,
305:091,09['  ]| invisible force of that$6#2$ water.  It was so$5#1$ different being in$4$
305:091,10['  ]| it, even on$4$ the edge of it, from looking at it from the
305:091,11['  ]| outside.
305:091,12['  ]| As they came trembling and panting up$4$ the bank to$4$ the
305:091,13['  ]| grass-plot, dripping and smelling so$5#1$ strong and sticky of
305:091,14['  ]| the Pacific, they saw Jack standing smoking and watching.
305:091,15[A  ]| "Are you going to$9$ try it?"  
305:091,15['  ]| said Somers.
305:091,16['  ]| He shook his head, and lit a cigarette.
305:091,17[C  ]| "No$7$.  It is past my bathing season," 
305:091,17['  ]| he said.
305:091,18['  ]| They ran to$4$ the little tub-house and washed the sand
305:091,19['  ]| and salt and sea-stickiness off with fresh water.
305:091,20['  ]| Somers wondered 
305:091,20@a   | whether Jack was going to$9$ say anything
305:091,21@a   | to$4$ him or not.  He was not sure.  Perhaps Jack
305:091,22@a   | himself was not sure.  
305:091,22['  ]| And Somers had that$6#2$ shrinking
305:091,23['  ]| feeling one has from going to$9$ see the doctor.  In$4$ a quiet
305:091,24['  ]| sort of way, the two men kept clear of one another.  They
305:091,25['  ]| loitered about in$4$ the sun and round the house during the
305:091,26['  ]| morning, mending the broken deck-chairs and doing little
305:091,27['  ]| jobs.  Victoria and Harriet were cooking roast-pork and
305:091,28['  ]| apple sauce, and baking little cakes.  It had already been
305:091,29['  ]| arranged that$3$ the Somers should come and live in$4$ Coo-ee,
305:091,30['  ]| and Victoria was quite happy and determined to$9$ leave a
305:091,31['  ]| supply of nice eatables behind her.
305:091,32['  ]| In$4$ the afternoon they all went strolling down the sands,
305:091,33['  ]| Somers and Victoria, Jack and Harriet.  They picked up$5$
305:091,34['  ]| big, iridescent abalone shells, such as people had on$4$ their
305:091,35['  ]| mantel-pieces at home:  and bits of purplish coral stuff.
305:091,36['  ]| And they walked across two fields to$9$ have a look at an
305:091,37['  ]| aeroplane which$6#1$ had come down with a broken propeller.
305:091,38['  ]| Jack of course had to$9$ talk about it to$4$ the people there,
305:091,39['  ]| while Somers hung back and tried to$9$ make himself invisible,
305:091,40['  ]| as he always did when there were strange onlookers.
305:091,41['  ]| Then the four turned home.  Jack and Victoria were
305:091,42['  ]| leaving by$4$ the seven train next morning, Somers and
305:092,01['  ]| Harriet were staying on$5$ a few days, before they returned
305:092,02['  ]| to$4$ Sydney to$9$ pack up$5$.  Harriet was longing to$9$ have the
305:092,03['  ]| house to$4$ themselves.  So$5#2$ was Somers.  He was also hoping
305:092,04['  ]| that$3$ Jack would not talk to$4$ him, would not want anything
305:092,05['  ]| of him.  And at the same time he was waiting for$4$ some
305:092,06['  ]| sort of approach.
305:092,07['  ]| The sea's edge was smoking with the fume of the waves
305:092,08['  ]| like$4$ a mist, and the high shore ahead, with the few painted
305:092,09['  ]| red-roofed bungalows, was all dim, like$4$ a Japanese print.
305:092,10['  ]| Tier after tier of white-frost foam pile breaking towards
305:092,11['  ]| the shore, in$4$ a haste.  The tide was nearly high.  Somers
305:092,12['  ]| could hardly see beyond over the white wall-tops of the
305:092,13['  ]| breaking waves, only on$4$ the clear horizon, far away, a
305:092,14['  ]| steamer like$4$ a small black scratch, and a fantastic thread
305:092,15['  ]| of smoke.
305:092,16['  ]| He lingered behind the rest, they were nearly home.
305:092,17['  ]| They were at the wide sandy place where the creek left off.
305:092,18['  ]| Its still, brackish waters just sank into the sands, without
305:092,19['  ]| ever running to$9$ meet the waves.  And beyond the sands
305:092,20['  ]| was a sort of marsh, bushes and tall stark dead gum-trees,
305:092,21['  ]| and a few thin-tufted trees.  Half wild ponies walked
305:092,22['  ]| heavily from the bush to$4$ the sands, and across to$4$ the slope
305:092,23['  ]| where the low cliff rose again.  In$4$ the depths of the marsh-like
305:092,24['  ]| level was the low chimney of the mine, and tips of
305:092,25['  ]| roofs: and beyond, a long range of wire-like trees holding
305:092,26['  ]| up$5$ tufts of foliage in$4$ handfuls, in$4$ front of the pale blue,
305:092,27['  ]| diminishing range of the hills in$4$ the distance.  It was a
305:092,28['  ]| weird scene, full of definite detail, fascinating detail, yet
305:092,29['  ]| all in$4$ the funeral-grey monotony of the bush.
305:092,30['  ]| Somers turned to$4$ the piled-up, white-fronted sea again.
305:092,31['  ]| On$4$ the tip of a rock above him sat a little bird with
305:092,32['  ]| hunched up$5$ shoulders and a long beak:  an absurd
305:092,33['  ]| silhouette.  He went towards it, talking to$4$ it.  It seemed
305:092,34['  ]| to$9$ listen to$4$ him:  really to$9$ listen.  That$6#2$ is another of the
305:092,35['  ]| charms of Australia:  the birds are not really afraid, and
305:092,36['  ]| one can really communicate with them.  In$4$ West*Australia
305:092,37['  ]| Somers could sit in$4$ the bush and talk to$4$ the flocks
305:092,38['  ]| of big, handsome, black-and-white birds that$6#1$ they call
305:092,39['  ]| magpies, but which$6#1$ are a sort of butcher bird, apparently.
305:092,40['  ]| And they would gurgle little answers in$4$ their throats, and
305:092,41['  ]| cock their heads on$4$ one side.  Handsome birds they were,
305:092,42['  ]| some with mottled grey breasts like$4$ fish.  And the boldest
305:093,01['  ]| would even come and take pieces of bread from their hands.
305:093,02['  ]| Yet they were quite wild.  Only they seemed to$9$ have a
305:093,03['  ]| strange power of understanding the human psyche.
305:093,04['  ]| Now this little kingfisher by$4$ the sea.  It sat and looked
305:093,05['  ]| at Somers, and cocked its head and listened.  It \liked\ to$9$
305:093,06['  ]| be talked to$5$.  When he came quite near, it sped with the
305:093,07['  ]| straight low flight of kingfishers to$4$ another boulder, and
305:093,08['  ]| waited for$4$ him.  It was beautiful too:  with a sheeny sea-green
305:093,09['  ]| back and a pale breast touched with burnt yellow.
305:093,10['  ]| A beautiful, dandy little fellow.  And there he waited for$4$
305:093,11['  ]| Somers like$4$ a little penguin perching on$4$ a brown boulder.
305:093,12['  ]| And Somers came softly near, talking quietly.  Till he
305:093,13['  ]| could almost touch the bird.  Then away it sped a few
305:093,14['  ]| yards, and waited.  Sheeny greyish green, like$4$ the gum-leaves
305:093,15['  ]| become vivid:  and yellowish breast, like$4$ the suave
305:093,16['  ]| gum-tree trunks.  And listening, and waiting, and
305:093,17['  ]| wanting to$9$ be talked to$5$.  Wanting to$9$ contact.
305:093,18['  ]| The other three had disappeared from the sea-side.
305:093,19['  ]| Somers walked slowly on$5$.  Then suddenly he saw Jack
305:093,20['  ]| running across the sand in$4$ a bathing suit, and entering the
305:093,21['  ]| shallow rim of a long, swift upwash.  He went in$5$ gingerly
305:093,22['  ]| ~~ then threw himself into a little swell, and rolled in$4$ the
305:093,23['  ]| water for$4$ a minute.  Then he was rushing back, before
305:093,24['  ]| the next big wave broke.  He had gone again by$4$ the time
305:093,25['  ]| Somers came to$9$ climb the cliff-bank to$4$ the house.
305:093,26['  ]| They had a cup of tea on$4$ the wooden verandah.  The
305:093,27['  ]| air had begun to$9$ waft icily from the inland, but in$4$ the
305:093,28['  ]| sheltered place facing the sea it was still warm.  This was
305:093,29['  ]| only four o'clock ~~ or to-day, five o'clock tea.  Proper tea
305:093,30['  ]| was at six or half-past, with meat and pies and fruit salad.
305:093,31['  ]| The women went indoors with the cups.  Jack was
305:093,32['  ]| smoking his pipe.  There was something unnatural about
305:093,33['  ]| his stillness.
305:093,34[A  ]| "You had a dip after all," 
305:093,34['  ]| said Somers.
305:093,35[C  ]| "Yes.  A dip in$5$ and out."
305:093,36['  ]| Then silence again.  Somers' thoughts wandered out to$4$
305:093,37['  ]| the gently darkening sea, and the bird, and the whole of
305:093,38['  ]| vast Australia lying behind him flat and open to$4$ the sky.
305:093,39[C  ]| "You like$1$ it down here?" 
305:093,39['  ]| said Jack.
305:093,40[A  ]| "I do indeed."
305:093,41[C  ]| "Let us go down to$4$ the rocks again, I like$1$ to$9$ be near the
305:093,42[C  ]| waves."
305:094,01['  ]| Somers rose and followed him.  The house was already
305:094,02['  ]| lit up$5$.  The sea was bluey.  They went down the steps
305:094,03['  ]| cut in$4$ the earth of the bank top, and between the bushes
305:094,04['  ]| to$4$ the sand.  The tide was full, and swishing against a flat
305:094,05['  ]| ledge of rocks.  Jack went to$4$ the edge of this ledge 
305:094,06['  ]| looking in$5$ at the surging water, while, hissing, heavy.
305:094,07['  ]| Somers followed again.  Jack turned his face to$4$ him.
305:094,08[C  ]| "Funny thing it should go on$5$ doing this all the time,
305:094,09[C  ]| for$4$ no$2$ purpose," 
305:094,09['  ]| said Jack, amid all the noise.
305:094,10[A  ]| "Yes."
305:094,11['  ]| Again they watched the heavy waves unfurl and fling the
305:094,12['  ]| white challenge of foam on$4$ the shore.
305:094,13[C  ]| "I say," 
305:094,13['  ]| Jack turned his face.  
305:094,13[C  ]| "I shall not be making a
305:094,14[C  ]| mistake if I tell you a few things in$4$ confidence, shall I?"
305:094,15[A  ]| "I hope not.  But judge for$4$ yourself."
305:094,16[C  ]| "Well, it is like$4$ this," 
305:094,16['  ]| shouted Jack ~~ they had to$9$ shout
305:094,17['  ]| at one another in$4$ unnaturally lifted voices, because of the
305:094,18['  ]| huge noise of the sea.  
305:094,18[C  ]| "There is a good many of us chaps
305:094,19[C  ]| as has been in$4$ France, you know ~~ and been through it all
305:094,20[C  ]| ~~ in$4$ the army ~~ we jolly well know you can not keep a
305:094,21[C  ]| country going on$4$ the vote-catching system ~~ as you said
305:094,22[C  ]| the other day.  We know it can not be done."
305:094,23[A  ]| "It can not," 
305:094,23['  ]| said Somers, with a shout, 
305:094,23[A  ]| "for*ever."
305:094,24[C  ]| "If you have got to$9$ command, you do not have to$9$ ask
305:094,25[C  ]| your men first if it is right, before you give the command."
305:094,26[A  ]| "Of course not," 
305:094,26['  ]| yelled Somers.
305:094,27['  ]| But Jack was musing for$4$ the moment.
305:094,28[C  ]| "What?"  
305:094,28['  ]| he shouted, as he woke up$5$.
305:094,29[A  ]| "No$7$," 
305:094,29['  ]| yelled Somers.
305:094,30['  ]| A further muse, amid the roar of the waves.
305:094,31[C  ]| "Do the men know better than the officers, or do the
305:094,32[C  ]| officers know better than the men?"  
305:094,32['  ]| he barked.
305:094,33[A  ]| "Of course," 
305:094,33['  ]| said Somers.
305:094,34[C  ]| "These damned politicians ~~ they invent a cry ~~ and
305:094,35[C  ]| they wait to$9$ see if the public will$1$ take it up$5$.  And if it
305:094,36[C  ]| will$1$ not, they drop it.  And if it will$1$, they make a mountain
305:094,37[C  ]| of it, if it is only an old flower-pot."
305:094,38[A  ]| "They do," 
305:094,38['  ]| yelled Somers.
305:094,39['  ]| They stood close side by$4$ side, like$4$ two mariners in$4$ a
305:094,40['  ]| storm, amid the breathing spume of the foreshore, while
305:094,41['  ]| darkness slowly sank.  Right at the tip of the flat, low
305:094,42['  ]| rocks they stood, like$4$ pilots.
305:095,01[C  ]| "It is no$2$ good," 
305:095,01['  ]| barked Jack, with his hands in$4$ his
305:095,02['  ]| pockets.
305:095,03[A  ]| "Not a bit."
305:095,04[C  ]| "If you are an officer, you study what is best, for$4$ the
305:095,05[C  ]| cause and for$4$ the men.  You study your men.  But you
305:095,06[C  ]| do not ask \them\ what to$9$ do.  If you do you are a wash-out."
305:095,07[A  ]| "Quite."
305:095,08[C  ]| "And that$6#2$ is where it is in$4$ politics.  You see the papers
305:095,09[C  ]| howling and blubbering for$4$ a statesman.  Why, if they had
305:095,10[C  ]| got the finest statesman the world ever saw, they would chuck
305:095,11[C  ]| him on$5$ to$4$ the scrap heap the moment he really wanted his
305:095,12[C  ]| own way, doing what he saw was the best.  That$6#2$ is where
305:095,13[C  ]| they have got anybody who is any good ~~ on$4$ the scrap-heap."
305:095,14[A  ]| "Same the world over."
305:095,15[C  ]| "It has got to$9$ alter somewhere."
305:095,16[A  ]| "It has."
305:095,17[C  ]| "When you have been through the army, you know that$3$
305:095,18[C  ]| what you depend on$4$ is a \general\, and on$4$ \discipline\, and on$4$
305:095,19[C  ]| \obedience\.  And nothing else is the slightest bit of good."
305:095,20[A  ]| "But they say the civil world is \not\ an army:  it is the
305:095,21[A  ]| will$0$ of the people," 
305:095,21['  ]| cried Somers.
305:095,22[C  ]| "Will$0$ of my grandmother's old tom-cat.  They have got
305:095,23[C  ]| no$2$ will$0$, except to$9$ stop anybody else from having any."
305:095,24[A  ]| "I know."
305:095,25[C  ]| "Look at Australia.  Absolutely fermenting rotten with
305:095,26[C  ]| politicians and the will$0$ of the people.  Look at the country
305:095,27[C  ]| ~~ going rottener every day, like$4$ an old pear."
305:095,28[A  ]| "All the democratic world the same."
305:095,29[C  ]| "Of course it is the same.  And you may well say
305:095,30[C  ]| Australian soil is waiting to$9$ be watered with blood.  It is
305:095,31[C  ]| waiting to$9$ be watered with our blood, once England has got
305:095,32[C  ]| too soft to$9$ help herself, let alone us, and the Japs come
305:095,33[C  ]| down this way.  They would squash up$5$ like$4$ a soft pear."
305:095,34[A  ]| "I think it is quite likely."
305:095,35[C  ]| "What?"
305:095,36[A  ]| "Likely."
305:095,37[C  ]| "It is pretty well a certainty.  And would you blame
305:095,38[C  ]| them?  If you was thirsty, would not you pick a ripe pear
305:095,39[C  ]| if it hung on$4$ nobody's tree?  Why, of course you would.
305:095,40[C  ]| And who would blame you."
305:095,41[A  ]| "Blame myself if I did not," 
305:095,41['  ]| said Somers.
305:095,42[C  ]| "And then their coloured labour.  I tell you, this
305:096,01[C  ]| country is too far from Europe to$9$ risk it.  They will$1$ swallow
305:096,02[C  ]| us.  As sure as guns is guns, if we let in$5$ coloured labour,
305:096,03[C  ]| they will$1$ swallow us.  They hate us.  All the other colours
305:096,04[C  ]| hate the white.  And they are only waiting till we have not
305:096,05[C  ]| got the pull over them.  They are only waiting.  And then
305:096,06[C  ]| what about poor little Australia?"
305:096,07[A  ]| "Heaven knows."
305:096,08[C  ]| "There will$1$ be the Labour Party, the Socialists, uniting
305:096,09[C  ]| with the workers of the world.  \They will$1$\ be the workers, if
305:096,10[C  ]| ever it comes to$4$ it.  Those black and yellow people will$1$
305:096,11[C  ]| make them work ~~ not half.  It is not one side only that$3$ can
305:096,12[C  ]| keep slaves.  Why, the fools, the coloured races do not
305:096,13[C  ]| have any \feeling\ for$4$ liberty.  They only think you are a
305:096,14[C  ]| fool when you give it to$4$ them, and if they got a chance,
305:096,15[C  ]| they would drive you out of work in$4$ gangs, and fairly laugh at
305:096,16[C  ]| you.  All this world's-worker business is simply playing
305:096,17[C  ]| their game."
305:096,18[A  ]| "Of course," 
305:096,18['  ]| said Somers.  
305:096,18[A  ]| "What is Indian Nationalism
305:096,19[A  ]| but a strong bid for$4$ power ~~ for$4$ tyranny.  The
305:096,20[A  ]| Brahmins want their old absolute caste-power ~~ the most
305:096,21[A  ]| absolute tyranny ~~ back again, and the Mahommedans
305:096,22[A  ]| want their military tyranny.  That$6#2$ is what they are lusting
305:096,23[A  ]| for$4$ ~~ to$9$ wield the rod again.  Slavery for$4$ millions.  Japan
305:096,24[A  ]| the same.  And China, in$4$ part, the same.  The niggers
305:096,25[A  ]| the same.  The real sense of liberty only goes with white
305:096,26[A  ]| blood.  And the ideal of democratic liberty is an exploded
305:096,27[A  ]| ideal.  You have got to$9$ have wisdom and authority somewhere,
305:096,28[A  ]| and you can not get it out of any further democracy."
305:096,29[C  ]| "There!"  
305:096,29['  ]| said Jack.  
305:096,29[C  ]| "That$6#2$ is what I mean.  We
305:096,30[C  ]| shall be wiped out, wiped out.  And we know it.  Look here,
305:096,31[C  ]| as man to$4$ man, you and me here:  if you were an Australian,
305:096,32[C  ]| would not you do something if you could do something?"
305:096,33[C  ]|
305:096,34[A  ]| "I would."
305:096,35[C  ]| "Whether you got shot or whether you did not!  We
305:096,36[C  ]| went to$4$ France to$9$ get ourselves shot, for$4$ something that$6#1$
305:096,37[C  ]| did not touch us very close either.  Then why should not we
305:096,38[C  ]| run a bit of risk for$4$ what does touch us very close.  Why,
305:096,39[C  ]| you know, with things as they are, I do not want Victoria
305:096,40[C  ]| and me to$9$ have any children.  I would a jolly sight rather not
305:096,41[C  ]| ~~ and I will$1$ watch it too."
305:096,42[A  ]| "Same with me," 
305:096,42['  ]| yelled Somers.
305:097,01['  ]| Jack had come closer to$4$ him, and was now holding him
305:097,02['  ]| by$4$ the arm.
305:097,03[C  ]| "What is a man's life for$4$, anyhow?  Is it just to$9$ save up$5$
305:097,04[C  ]| like$4$ rotten pears on$4$ a shelf, in$4$ the hopes that$3$ one day it will$1$
305:097,05[C  ]| rot into a pink canary or something of that$6#2$?"
305:097,06[A  ]| "No$7$," 
305:097,06['  ]| said Somers.
305:097,07[C  ]| "What we want in$4$ Australia," 
305:097,07['  ]| said Jack, 
305:097,07[C  ]| "is not a
305:097,08[C  ]| statesman, not yet.  It is a set of chaps with some guts in$4$
305:097,09[C  ]| them, who will$1$ obey orders when they find a man who will$1$
305:097,10[C  ]| give the orders."
305:097,11[A  ]| "Yes."
305:097,12[C  ]| "And we have got such men ~~ we have got them.  But we
305:097,13[C  ]| want to$9$ see our way clear.  We do not never feel quite
305:097,14[C  ]| \sure\ enough over here.  That$6#2$ is where it is.  We sound as
305:097,15[C  ]| sure as a gas-explosion.  But it is all bang and no$2$ bump.
305:097,16[C  ]| We shall never raise no$2$ lids.  We shall only raise the roof
305:097,17[C  ]| ~~ or our politicians will$1$ ~~ with shouting.  Because we are
305:097,18[C  ]| never quite sure.  We know it when we meet you English
305:097,19[C  ]| people.  You are a lot surer than we are.  But you are
305:097,20[C  ]| mostly bigger fools as well.  It takes a fool to$9$ be sure of
305:097,21[C  ]| himself, sometimes."
305:097,22[A  ]| "Fact."
305:097,23[C  ]| "And there is where it is.  Most Englishmen are too big
305:097,24[C  ]| cocked-up fools for$4$ us.  And there you are.  Their sureness
305:097,25[C  ]| may help them along to$4$ the end of the road, but they
305:097,26[C  ]| have not the wit to$9$ turn a corner:  not a proper corner.
305:097,27[C  ]| And we can see it.  They can only go back on$4$ themselves."
305:097,28[A  ]| "Yes."
305:097,29[C  ]| "You are the only man I have met who$6#1$ seems to$4$ me sure
305:097,30[C  ]| of himself and what he means.  I may be mistaken, but
305:097,31[C  ]| that$6#2$ is how it seems to$4$ me.  And William*James knows it
305:097,32[C  ]| too.  But it is my belief William*James does not want you
305:097,33[C  ]| to$9$ come in$5$, because it would spoil his little game."
305:097,34[A  ]| "I do not understand."
305:097,35[C  ]| "I know you do not.  Now, look here.  This is absolutely
305:097,36[C  ]| between ourselves, now, is not it?"
305:097,37[A  ]| "Yes."
305:097,38[C  ]| "Certain?"
305:097,39[A  ]| "Yes."
305:097,40['  ]| Jack was silent for$4$ a time.  Then he looked round the
305:097,41['  ]| almost dark shore.  The stars were shining overhead.
305:097,42[C  ]| "Give me your hand then."  
305:097,42['  ]| said Jack.
305:098,01['  ]| Somers gave him his hand, and Jack clasped it fast,
305:098,02['  ]| drawing the smaller man to$4$ him and putting his arm round
305:098,03['  ]| his shoulders and holding him near to$4$ him.  It was a
305:098,04['  ]| tense moment for$4$ Richard*Lovat.  He looked at the dark
305:098,05['  ]| sea, and thought of his own everlasting gods, and felt the
305:098,06['  ]| other man's body next to$4$ his.
305:098,07[C  ]| "Well now," 
305:098,07['  ]| he said in$4$ Somers' ear, in$4$ a soothed tone.
305:098,08[C  ]| "There is quite a number of us in$4$ Sydney ~~ and in$4$ the
305:098,09[C  ]| other towns as well ~~ we are mostly diggers back from the
305:098,10[C  ]| war ~~ we have joined up$5$ into a kind of club ~~ and we are sworn
305:098,11[C  ]| in$5$ ~~ and we are sworn to$9$ \obey\ the leaders, no$2$ matter what
305:098,12[C  ]| the command, when the time is ready ~~ and we are sworn to$9$
305:098,13[C  ]| keep silent till then.  We do not let out much, nothing of
305:098,14[C  ]| any consequence, to$4$ the general run of the members."
305:098,15['  ]| Richard listened with his soul.  
305:098,15@a   | Jack's eager, conspirator
305:098,16@a   | voice seemed very close to$4$ his ear, and it had a kind of
305:098,17@a   | caress, a sort of embrace.   
305:098,17['  ]| Richard was absolutely motionless.
305:098,18['  ]|
305:098,19[A  ]| "But who$6#2$ are your leaders?"  
305:098,19['  ]| he asked, thinking of
305:098,20['  ]| course that$3$ it was his own high destiny to$9$ be a leader.
305:098,21[C  ]| "Why, the first club got fifty members to$9$ start with.
305:098,22[C  ]| Then we chose a leader and talked things over.  And then
305:098,23[C  ]| we chose a secretary and a lieutenant.  And every member
305:098,24[C  ]| quietly brought in$5$ more chaps.  And as soon as we felt
305:098,25[C  ]| we could afford it, we separated, making the next thirty
305:098,26[C  ]| or so$5#2$ into a second club, with the lieutenant for$4$ a leader.
305:098,27[C  ]| Then we chose a new lieutenant ~~ and the new club chose a
305:098,28[C  ]| secretary and a lieutenant."
305:098,29['  ]| Richard did not follow all this lieutenant and club business
305:098,30['  ]| very well.  He was thinking of himself entering in$5$
305:098,31['  ]| with these men in$4$ a dangerous, desperate cause.  
305:098,31@a   | It
305:098,32@a   | seemed unreal.  Yet there he was, with Jack is arm round
305:098,33@a   | him.  Jack would want him to$9$ be his "mate."  Could
305:098,34@a   | he?  His cobber.  Could he ever be mate to$4$ any man?
305:098,35[A  ]| "You sort of have a lot of leaders.  What if one of
305:098,36[A  ]| them let you down?"  
305:098,36['  ]| he asked.
305:098,37[C  ]| "None of them have yet.  But we have arranged for$4$ that$6#2$."
305:098,38['  ]| "How?"
305:098,39[C  ]| "I will$1$ tell you later.  But you get a bit of the hang of
305:098,40[C  ]| the thing, do you?"
305:098,41[A  ]| "I think so$5#2$.  But what do you call yourselves?  How
305:098,42[A  ]| do you appear to$4$ the public?"
305:099,01[C  ]| "We call ourselves the diggers clubs, and we go in$5$
305:099,02[C  ]| chiefly for$4$ athletics.  And we do spend most of the time in$4$
305:099,03[C  ]| athletics.  But those that$6#1$ are not diggers can join, if a pal
305:099,04[C  ]| brings them in$5$ and vouches for$4$ them."
305:099,05['  ]| Richard was now feeling rather out of it.  Returned
305:099,06['  ]| soldiers, and clubs, and athletics ~~ all unnatural things to$4$
305:099,07['  ]| him.  
305:099,07@a   | Was he going to$9$ join in$5$ with this?  How could he?
305:099,08@a   | He was so$5#1$ different from it all.
305:099,09[A  ]| "And how do you work ~~ I mean together?"  
305:099,09['  ]| he
305:099,10['  ]| faltered.
305:099,11[C  ]| "We have a special lodge of the leaders and lieutenants
305:099,12[C  ]| and secretaries from all the clubs, and again in$4$ every lodge
305:099,13[C  ]| they choose a master, that$6#2$ is the highest; and then a Jack,
305:099,14[C  ]| he is like$4$ a lieutenant; and a Teller, he is the sort of secretary
305:099,15[C  ]| and president.  We have lodges in$4$ all the biggish
305:099,16[C  ]| places.  And then all the masters of the lodges of the five
305:099,17[C  ]| states of Australia keep in$4$ touch, and they choose five
305:099,18[C  ]| masters who$6#1$ are called the Five, and these five agree
305:099,19[C  ]| among themselves which$6#1$ order shall stand in$4$:  first, second,
305:099,20[C  ]| third, fourth, and fifth.  When once they have chosen the
305:099,21[C  ]| first, then he has two votes towards the placing of the
305:099,22[C  ]| other four.  And so$5#2$ they settle it.  And then they grade
305:099,23[C  ]| the five Jacks and the five Tellers.  I tell it you just in$4$
305:099,24[C  ]| rough, you know."
305:099,25[A  ]| "Yes.  And what are you?"
305:099,26[C  ]| "I am a master."
305:099,27['  ]| Richard was still trying to$9$ see himself in$4$ connection with
305:099,28['  ]| it all.  He tried to$9$ piece together all that$6#1$ Jack had been
305:099,29['  ]| letting off at him.  
305:099,29@a   | Returned soldiers' clubs, chiefly
305:099,30@a   | athletics, with a more or less secret core to$4$ each club, and
305:099,31@a   | all the secret cores working together secretly in$4$ all the state
305:099,32@a   | under one chief head, and apparently with military penalties
305:099,33@a   | for$4$ any transgression.  It was not a bad idea.  And
305:099,34@a   | the aim, apparently, a sort of revolution and a seizing of
305:099,35@a   | political power.
305:099,36[A  ]| "How long have you been started?"  
305:099,36['  ]| he asked.
305:099,37[C  ]| "About eighteen months ~~ nearly two years altogether."
305:099,38['  ]| Somers was silent, very much impressed, though his
305:099,39['  ]| heart felt heavy.  
305:099,39@a   | Why did his heart feel so$5#1$ heavy?
305:099,40@a   | Politics ~~ conspiracy ~~ political power:  it was all so$5#1$ alien
305:099,41@a   | to$4$ him.  
305:099,41['  ]| Somehow, in$4$ his soul he always meant something
305:099,42['  ]| quite different, when he thought of action along with other
305:100,01['  ]| men.  
305:100,01@a   | Yet Australia, the wonderful, lonely Australia,
305:100,02@a   | with her seven million people only ~~ it might begin here.
305:100,03@a   | And the Australians, so$5#1$ queer, so$5#1$ absent, as it were,
305:100,04@a   | leaving themselves out all the time ~~ they might be capable
305:100,05@a   | of a beautiful unselfishness and steadfastness of purpose.
305:100,06['  ]| Only ~~ his heart refused to$9$ respond.
305:100,07[A  ]| "What is your aim, though?  What do you want,
305:100,08[A  ]| finally?"  
305:100,08['  ]| he asked rather lamely.
305:100,09['  ]| Jack hesitated, and his grip on$4$ the other man's arm
305:100,10['  ]| tightened.
305:100,11[C  ]| "Well,"  
305:100,11['  ]| he said.  
305:100,11[C  ]| "It is like$4$ this.  We do not talk a lot
305:100,12[C  ]| about what we intend:  we fix nothing.  But we start
305:100,13[C  ]| certain talks, and we listen, so$3$ we know more or less what
305:100,14[C  ]| most of the ordinary members feel like$4$.  Why, the plan is
305:100,15[C  ]| more or less this.  The Labour people, the reds, are
305:100,16[C  ]| always talking about a revolution, and the Conservatives
305:100,17[C  ]| are always talking about a disaster.  Well, we keep ourselves
305:100,18[C  ]| fit and ready for$4$ as soon as the revolution comes
305:100,19[C  ]| ~~ \or\ the disaster.  Then we step in$5$, you see, and we are
305:100,20[C  ]| the revolution.  We have got most of the trained fighting
305:100,21[C  ]| men behind us, and we can \make\ the will$0$ of the people,
305:100,22[C  ]| do not you see:  if the members stand steady.  We shall
305:100,23[C  ]| have ""Australia"" for$4$ the word.  We stand for$4$ Australia,
305:100,24[C  ]| not for$4$ any of your parties."
305:100,25['  ]| Somers at once felt the idea was a good one.  
305:100,25@a   | Australia
305:100,26@a   | is not too big ~~ seven millions or so$5#2$, and the biggest part
305:100,27@a   | of the seven concentrated in$4$ the five or six cities.  Get
305:100,28@a   | hold of your cities and you have got hold of Australia.  
305:100,28['  ]| The
305:100,29['  ]| only thing he mistrusted was the dryness in$4$ Jack's voice:
305:100,30['  ]| a sort of that's-how-it's-got-to-be dryness, sharp and
305:100,31['  ]| authoritative.
305:100,32[C  ]| "What do you think of it?"  
305:100,32['  ]| said Jack.
305:100,33[A  ]| "Good idea," 
305:100,33['  ]| said Somers.
305:100,34[C  ]| "I know that$6#2$ ~~ if we can bite on$5$ to$4$ it.  Feel like$4$ joining
305:100,35[C  ]| in$5$, do you think?"
305:100,36['  ]| Somers was silent.  He was thinking of Jack even more
305:100,37['  ]| than of the venture.  
305:100,37@a   | Jack was trying to$9$ put something
305:100,38@a   | over him ~~ in$4$ some way, to$9$ get a hold over him.  
305:100,38['  ]| He
305:100,39['  ]| felt like$4$ a animal that$6#1$ is being lassoed.  
305:100,39@a   | Yet here
305:100,40@a   | was his chance, if he wanted to$9$ be a leader of men.
305:100,41@a   | He had only to$9$ give himself, give himself up$5$ to$4$ it
305:100,42@a   | and to$4$ the men.
305:101,01[A  ]| "Let me think about it a bit, will$1$ you?"  
305:101,01['  ]| he replied,
305:101,02[A  ]| "and I will$1$ tell you when I come up$5$ to$4$ Sydney."
305:101,03[C  ]| "Right*O!"  
305:101,03['  ]| said Jack, a twinge of disappointment in$4$
305:101,04['  ]| his acquiescence.  
305:101,04[C  ]| "Look before you leap, you know."
305:101,05[A  ]| "Yes ~~ for$4$ both sides.  You would not want me to$9$ jump
305:101,06[A  ]| in$5$, and then squirm because I did not like$1$ it."
305:101,07[C  ]| "Right you are, old man.  You take you own time ~~ I
305:101,08[C  ]| know you will$1$ not be wagging your jaw to$4$ anybody."
305:101,09[A  ]| "No$7$.  Not even to$4$ Harriet."
305:101,10[C  ]| "Oh, bless you, no$7$.  We are not having the women in$5$,
305:101,11[C  ]| if we can help it.  Do not believe in$4$ it, do you?"
305:101,12[A  ]| "Not in$4$ real politics, I do not."
305:101,13['  ]| They stood a moment longer by$4$ the sea.  Then Jack let
305:101,14['  ]| go Somers' arm.
305:101,15[C  ]| "Well,"  
305:101,15['  ]| he said, 
305:101,15[C  ]| "I would rather die in$4$ a forlorn hope than
305:101,16[C  ]| drag my days out in$4$ a forlorn mope.  Besides, damn it, I
305:101,17[C  ]| do want to$9$ have a shot at something, I do.  These
305:101,18[C  ]| politicians absolutely get my wind up$5$, running the country.
305:101,19[C  ]| If I can not do better than that$6#2$, then let me be shot, and
305:101,20[C  ]| welcome."
305:101,21[A  ]| "I agree," 
305:101,21['  ]| said Somers.
305:101,22['  ]| Jack put his hand on$4$ his shoulder, and pressed it hard.
305:101,23[C  ]| "I knew you would," 
305:101,23['  ]| he said, in$4$ moved tones.  
305:101,23[C  ]| "We
305:101,24[C  ]| want a man like$4$ you, you know ~~ like$4$ a sort of queen bee
305:101,25[C  ]| to$4$ a hive."
305:101,26['  ]| Somers laughed, rather startled by$4$ the metaphor.  He
305:101,27['  ]| had thought of himself as many things, but never as a
305:101,28['  ]| queen bee to$4$ a hive of would-be revolutionaries.  The
305:101,29['  ]| two men went up$5$ to$4$ the house.
305:101,30[D  ]| "Wherever have you been?"  
305:101,30['  ]| said Victoria.
305:101,31[C  ]| "Talking politics and red-hot treason," 
305:101,31['  ]| said Jack,
305:101,32['  ]| rubbing his hands.
305:101,33[D  ]| "Till you are almost frozen, I am sure," 
305:101,33['  ]| said Victoria.
305:101,34['  ]| Harriet looked at the two men in$4$ curiosity and suspicion,
305:101,35['  ]| but she said nothing.  Only next morning when the Callcotts
305:101,36['  ]| had gone she said to$4$ Lovat:
305:101,37[B  ]| "What were you and Mr*Callcott talking about, really?"
305:101,38[A  ]| "As he said, politics and hot treason.  An idea that$6#1$
305:101,39[A  ]| some of them have got for$4$ making a change in$4$ the constitution."
305:101,40[A  ]|
305:101,41[B  ]| "What sort of change?"  
305:101,41['  ]| asked Harriet.
305:101,42[A  ]| "Why ~~ do not bother me yet.  I do not know myself."
305:102,01[B  ]| "Is it so$5#1$ important you must not tell me?"  
305:102,01['  ]| she asked
305:102,02['  ]| sarcastically.
305:102,03[A  ]| "Or else so$5#1$ vague," 
305:102,03['  ]| he answered.
305:102,04@b   | But she saw by$4$ the shut look on$4$ his face that$3$ he was
305:102,05@b   | not going to$9$ tell her:  that$3$ this was something he intended
305:102,06@b   | to$9$ keep apart from her:  forever apart.  A part of himself
305:102,07@b   | which$6#1$ he was not going to$9$ share with her.  It seemed to$4$
305:102,08@b   | her unnecessary, and a breach of faith on$4$ his part, wounding
305:102,09@b   | her.  If their marriage was a real thing, then anything
305:102,10@b   | very serious was her matter as much as his, surely.  Either
305:102,11@b   | her marriage with him was not very important, or else this
305:102,12@b   | Jack*Callcott stuff was not very important.  Which$6#1$ probably
305:102,13@b   | it was not.  Yet she hated the hoity-toity way she was
305:102,14@b   | shut out.
305:102,15[B  ]| "Pah!"  
305:102,15['  ]| she said.  
305:102,15[B  ]| "A bit of little boy's silly showing
305:102,16[B  ]| off."
305:102,17@b   | But he had this other cold side to$4$ his nature, that$6#1$ could
305:102,18@b   | keep a secret cold and isolated till Doomsday.  And for$4$
305:102,19@b   | two or three years now, since the war, he had talked like$4$
305:102,20@b   | this about doing some work with men alone, sharing some
305:102,21@b   | activity with men.  Turning away from the personal life
305:102,22@b   | to$4$ the hateful male impersonal activity, and shutting her
305:102,23@b   | out from this.
305:102,24['  ]| She continued bright through the day.  Then at evening
305:102,25['  ]| he found her sitting on$4$ her bed with tears in$4$ her eyes and
305:102,26['  ]| her hands in$4$ her lap.  At once his heart became very
305:102,27['  ]| troubled:  
305:102,27@a   | because after all she was all he had in$4$ the world,
305:102,28@a   | and he could not bear her to$9$ be really disappointed or
305:102,29@a   | wounded.  He wanted to$9$ ask her what was the matter,
305:102,30@a   | and to$9$ try to$9$ comfort her.  But he knew it would be false.
305:102,31['  ]| He knew that$3$ her greatest grief was when he turned away
305:102,32['  ]| from their personal human life of intimacy to$4$ this impersonal
305:102,33['  ]| business of male activity for$4$ which$6#1$ he was always
305:102,34['  ]| craving.  So$3$ he felt miserable, but went away without
305:102,35['  ]| saying anything.  
305:102,35@a   | Because he was determined, if possible,
305:102,36@a   | to$9$ go forward in$4$ this matter with Jack.  He was also
305:102,37@a   | determined that$3$ it was not a woman's matter.  As soon
305:102,38@a   | as he could he would tell her about it:  as much as it was
305:102,39@a   | necessary for$4$ her to$9$ know.  But, once he had slowly and
305:102,40@a   | carefully weighed a course of action, he would not hold it
305:102,41@a   | subject to$4$ Harriet's approval or disapproval.  It would
305:102,42@a   | be out of her sphere, outside the personal sphere of their
305:103,01@a   | two lives, and he would keep it there.  She emphatically
305:103,02@a   | opposed this principle of her externality.  She agreed with
305:103,03@a   | the necessity for$4$ impersonal activity, but oh, she insisted
305:103,04@a   | on$4$ being identified with the activity, impersonal or not.
305:103,05@a   | And he insisted that$3$ it could not and should not be:  that$3$
305:103,06@a   | the pure male activity should be womanless, beyond
305:103,07@a   | woman.  No$2$ man was beyond woman.  But in$4$ his one
305:103,08@a   | quality of ultimate maker and breaker, he was womanless.
305:103,09@a   | Harriet denied this, bitterly.  She wanted to$9$ share, to$9$
305:103,10@a   | join in$5$, not to$9$ be left out lonely.  
305:103,10['  ]| He looked at her in$4$
305:103,11['  ]| distress, and did not answer.  It is a knot that$6#1$ can never
305:103,12['  ]| be untied;  it can only, like$4$ a navel string, be broken or cut.
305:103,13['  ]| For$4$ the moment, however, he said nothing.  But Somers
305:103,14['  ]| knew from his dreams what she was feeling:  his dreams of
305:103,15['  ]| a woman, a woman he loved, something like$4$ Harriet,
305:103,16['  ]| something like$4$ his mother, and yet unlike either, a woman
305:103,17['  ]| sullen and obstinate against him, repudiating him.  Bitter
305:103,18['  ]| the woman was grieved beyond words, grieved till her face
305:103,19['  ]| was swollen and puffy and almost mad or imbecile, because
305:103,20['  ]| she had loved him so$5#1$ much, and now she must see him
305:103,21['  ]| betray her love.  That$6#2$ was how the dream woman put it:
305:103,22['  ]| he had betrayed her great love, and she must go down
305:103,23['  ]| desolate into an everlasting hell, denied, and denying him
305:103,24['  ]| absolutely in$4$ return, a sullen, awful soul.  The face
305:103,25['  ]| reminded him of Harriet, and of his mother, and of his
305:103,26['  ]| sister, and of girls he had known when he was younger ~~
305:103,27['  ]| strange glimpses of all of them, each glimpse excluding
305:103,28['  ]| the last.  And at the same time in$4$ the terrible face some
305:103,29['  ]| of the look of that$6#2$ bloated face of a madwoman which$6#1$
305:103,30['  ]| hung over Jane*Eyre in$4$ the night in$4$ Mr*Rochester's house.
305:103,31['  ]| The Somers of the dream was terribly upset.  He cried
305:103,32['  ]| tears from his very bowels, and laid his hand on$4$ the
305:103,33['  ]| woman's arm saying:
305:103,34[A  ]| "But I love you.  Do not you  \believe\ in$4$ me?  Do not
305:103,35[A  ]| you \believe\ in$4$ me?"  
305:103,35@a   | But the woman, she seemed almost
305:103,36@a   | old now ~~ only shed a few bitter tears, bitter as vitriol,
305:103,37@a   | from her distorted face, and bitterly, hideously turned
305:103,38@a   | away, dragging her arm from the touch of his fingers;
305:103,39@a   | turned, as it seemed to$4$ the dream-Somers, away to$4$ the
305:103,40@a   | sullen and dreary, everlasting hell of repudiation.
305:103,41@a   | He woke at this, and listened to$4$ the thunder of the sea
305:103,42@a   | with horror.  With horror.  Two women in$4$ his life he had
305:104,01@a   | loved down to$4$ the quick of life and death:  his mother and
305:104,02@a   | Harriet.  And the woman in$4$ the dream was so$5#1$ awfully
305:104,03@a   | his mother, risen from the dead, and at the same time
305:104,04@a   | Harriet, as it were, departing from this life, that$3$ he stared
305:104,05@a   | at the night-paleness between the window-curtains in$4$ horror.
305:104,06[A  ]| "They neither of them believed in$4$ me," 
305:104,06['  ]| he said to$4$ himself.
305:104,07['  ]| Still in$4$ the spell of the dream, he put it in$4$ the past
305:104,08['  ]| tense, though Hariet lay sleeping in$4$ the next bed.  He
305:104,09['  ]| could not get over it.
305:104,10['  ]| Then he tried to$9$ come right awake.  In$4$ his full consciousness,
305:104,11['  ]| he was a great enemy of dreams.  For$4$ his own
305:104,12['  ]| private life, he found his dreams were like$4$ devils.  when
305:104,13['  ]| he was asleep and off his guard, then his own weaknesses,
305:104,14['  ]| especially his old weaknesses that$6#1$ he had overcome in$4$ his
305:104,15['  ]| full, day-waking self, rose up$5$ again maliciously to$9$ take
305:104,16['  ]| some picturesque form and torment and overcome his
305:104,17['  ]| sleeping self.  He always considered dreams as a kind of
305:104,18['  ]| revenge which$6#1$ old weaknesses took on$4$ the victorious
305:104,19['  ]| healthy consciousness, like$4$ past diseases come back for$4$ a
305:104,20['  ]| phantom triumph.  So$3$ he said to$4$ himself:  
305:104,20@a   | "The dream is
305:104,21@a   | one of these larva*e of my past emotions.  It means that$3$
305:104,22@a   | the danger is passed, the evil is overcome, so$3$ it has to$9$ resort
305:104,23@a   | to$4$ dreams to$9$ terrify me.  In$4$ dreams the diseases and evil
305:104,24@a   | weaknesses of the soul ~~ and of our relations with other
305:104,25@a   | souls ~~ take form to$9$ triumph falsely over the living, healthy,
305:104,26@a   | onward-struggling spirit.  This dream means that$3$ the
305:104,27@a   | actual danger is gone."  
305:104,27['  ]| So$3$ he strengthened his spirit,
305:104,28['  ]| and in$4$ the morning when he got up$5$, and remembered, he
305:104,29['  ]| was no$2$ longer afraid.  A little uneasy still, maybe,
305:104,30['  ]| especially as to$4$ what Harriet would do.  
305:104,30@a   | But surely his
305:104,31@a   | mother was not hostile in$4$ death!  And if she were a little
305:104,32@a   | bit hostile at this forsaking, it was not permanent, it was
305:104,33@a   | only the remains of a weakness, an unbelief which$6#1$ haunted
305:104,34@a   | the soul in$4$ life.
305:104,35['  ]| So$3$ he reasoned with himself.  For$3$ he had an ingrained
305:104,36['  ]| instinct or habit of thought which$6#1$ made him feel that$3$ he
305:104,37['  ]| could never take the move into activity unless Harriet
305:104,38['  ]| and his dead mother believed in$4$ him.  They both loved
305:104,39['  ]| him:  that$6#2$ he knew.  They both believed in$4$ him terribly,
305:104,40['  ]| in$4$ personal being.  In$4$ the individual man he was, and the
305:104,41['  ]| son of man, they believed with all the intensity of
305:104,42['  ]| undivided love.  But in$4$ the impersonal man, the man that$6#1$
305:105,01['  ]| would go beyond them, with his back to$4$ them, away from
305:105,02['  ]| them into an activity that$6#1$ excluded them, in$4$ this man
305:105,03['  ]| they did not find it so$5#1$ easy to$9$ believe.
305:105,04['  ]| Harriet, however, said nothing for$4$ two days.  She was
305:105,05['  ]| happy in$4$ her new house, delighted with the sea and the
305:105,06['  ]| being alone, she loved her \Coo-ee\ bungalow, and loved
305:105,07['  ]| making it look nice.  She loved having Lovat alone with
305:105,08['  ]| her, and all her desires, as it were, in$4$ the hollow of her
305:105,09['  ]| hand.  She was bright and affectionate with him.  But
305:105,10['  ]| underneath lurked this chagrin of his wanting to$9$ go away
305:105,11['  ]| from her, for$4$ his activity.
305:105,12[B  ]| "You do not take Callcott and his politics seriously, do
305:105,13[B  ]| you?"  
305:105,13['  ]| she said to$4$ him at evening.
305:105,14[A  ]| "Yes," 
305:105,14['  ]| he said, rather hesitatingly.
305:105,15[B  ]| "But what does he want?"
305:105,16[A  ]| "To$9$ have another sort of government for$4$ the Commonwealth 
305:105,17[A  ]| ~~ with a sort of Dictator:  not the democratic vote-cadging 
305:105,18[A  ]| sort."
305:105,19[B  ]| "But what does that$6#2$ matter to$4$ you?"
305:105,20[A  ]| "It does matter.  If you can start a new life-form."
305:105,21[B  ]| "You know quite well you say yourself life does not \start\
305:105,22[B  ]| with a form.  It starts with a new feeling, and ends with
305:105,23[B  ]| a form."
305:105,24[A  ]| "I know.  But I think there is a new feeling."
305:105,25[B  ]| "In$4$ Callcott?"  
305:105,25['  ]| She had a very sceptical intonation.
305:105,26[A  ]| "Yes."
305:105,27[B  ]| "I very much doubt it.  He is a returned war hero, and
305:105,28[B  ]| he wants a chance of keeping on$5$ being a hero ~~ or something
305:105,29[B  ]| like$4$ that$6#2$."
305:105,30[A  ]| "But even that$6#2$ is a new feeling," 
305:105,30['  ]| he persisted.
305:105,31[B  ]| "Yah!"  
305:105,31['  ]| she said, rather wearily sceptical.  
305:105,31[B  ]| "I would
305:105,32[B  ]| rather even believe in$4$ William*James.  There seems to$4$ me
305:105,33[B  ]| more real feeling even in$4$ him:  deeper, at any rate.  Your
305:105,34[B  ]| Jacks are shallow really."
305:105,35[A  ]| "Nay, he seemed a man to$4$ me."
305:105,36[B  ]| "I do not know what you mean by$4$ your \men\.  Really,
305:105,37[B  ]| I give it up$5$, I do not know what you do want.  You change
305:105,38[B  ]| so$5#2$.  You have always said you despise politics, and yet here
305:105,39[B  ]| you are."  
305:105,39['  ]| She tailed off as if it were hopeless.
305:105,40[A  ]| "It is not the politics.  But it is a new life-form, a new
305:105,41[A  ]| social form.  We are pot-bound inside democracy and the
305:105,42[A  ]| democratic feeling."
305:106,01[B  ]| "But you know what you have said yourself.  You did not
305:106,02[B  ]| change the Roman*Empire with a revolution.  Christianity
305:106,03[B  ]| grew up$5$ for$4$ centuries without having anything at
305:106,04[B  ]| all to$9$ do with politics ~~ just a \feeling\, and a belief."
305:106,05['  ]| This was indeed what he had said himself, often enough:
305:106,06['  ]| that$3$ a new religious inspiration, and a new religious idea
305:106,07['  ]| must gradually spring up$5$ and ripen before there could be
305:106,08['  ]| any constructive change.  And yet he felt that$3$ 
305:106,08@a   | preaching
305:106,09@a   | and teaching were both no$2$ good, at the world's present
305:106,10@a   | juncture.  There must be action, brave, faithful action:
305:106,11@a   | and in$4$ the action the new spirit would arise.
305:106,12[A  ]| "You see," 
305:106,12['  ]| he said, 
305:106,12[A  ]| "Christianity is a religion which$6#1$
305:106,13[A  ]| preaches the despising of the material world.  And I do not
305:106,14[A  ]| believe in$4$ that$6#2$ part of it, at least, any longer.  I believe
305:106,15[A  ]| that$3$ the men with the real passion for$4$ life, for$4$ truth, for$4$
305:106,16[A  ]| \living\ and not for$4$ \having\, I feel they now must seize control
305:106,17[A  ]| of the material possessions, just to$9$ safeguard the world
305:106,18[A  ]| from all the masses who$6#1$ want to$9$ seize material possessions
305:106,19[A  ]| for$4$ themselves, blindly, and nothing else.  The men with
305:106,20[A  ]| soul and passionate truth in$4$ them must control the
305:106,21[A  ]| world's material riches and supplies:  absolutely put
305:106,22[A  ]| possessions out of the reach of the mass of mankind, and
305:106,23[A  ]| let life begin to$9$ live again, in$4$ place of this struggle for$4$
305:106,24[A  ]| existence, or struggle for$4$ wealth."
305:106,25[B  ]| "Yah, I do not believe it is so$5#1$ all-important who$6#1$ controls
305:106,26[B  ]| the world's material riches and supplies.  That$6#2$ will$1$ always
305:106,27[B  ]| be the same."
305:106,28[A  ]| "It will$1$ not."
305:106,29[B  ]| "It will$1$.  Conservatives or bolshevists or Labour Party
305:106,30[B  ]| ~~ they are all alike:  they all want to$9$ grab and have things
305:106,31[B  ]| in$4$ their clutches, and they are devilish with jealousy if they
305:106,32[B  ]| have not got them.  That$6#2$ is politics.  You have said thousands
305:106,33[B  ]| of times that$3$ politics are a game for$4$ the base people
305:106,34[B  ]| with no$2$ human soul in$4$ them.  Thousands of times you have
305:106,35[B  ]| said it.  And yet now ~~ "
305:106,36['  ]| He was silent for$4$ a while.
305:106,37[A  ]| "Now," 
305:106,37['  ]| he said slowly.  
305:106,37[A  ]| "Now I see that$3$ you do not
305:106,38[A  ]| have only to$9$ give all your possessions to$4$ the poor.  You have
305:106,39[A  ]| got to$9$ \have\ no$2$ poor that$6#1$ can be saved just by$4$ possessions.
305:106,40[A  ]| You have got to$9$ put the control of all supplies into the hands
305:106,41[A  ]| of sincere, sensible men who$6#1$ are still men enough to$9$ know
305:106,42[A  ]| that$3$ manhood is not the same thing as goods.  We do not
305:107,01[A  ]| want possessions.  Nobody wants possessions ~~ more than
305:107,02[A  ]| just the immediate things:  as you say yourself, one trunk
305:107,03[A  ]| for$4$ you, one for$4$ me, and one for$4$ the household goods.
305:107,04[A  ]| That$6#2$ is about all.  We do not want anything else.  And the
305:107,05[A  ]| world is ours ~~ Australia or India, Coo-ee or Ardnaree, or
305:107,06[A  ]| where you like$4$.  You have got to$9$ teach people that$3$, by$4$
305:107,07[A  ]| withholding possessions and stopping the mere frenzy for$4$
305:107,08[A  ]| possession which$6#1$ runs the world to-day.  You have got to$9$ do
305:107,09[A  ]| that$6#2$ \first\, not last."
305:107,10[B  ]| "And you think Jack*Callcott will$1$ do it?"
305:107,11[A  ]| "I did think so$5#2$, as he talked to$4$ me."
305:107,12[B  ]| "Well, then let him.  Why do you want to$9$ interfere.
305:107,13[B  ]| In$4$ my opinion he is chiefly jealous because other people
305:107,14[B  ]| run the show, and he does not have a look-in.  Having once
305:107,15[B  ]| been a Captain with some power, he wants the same again,
305:107,16[B  ]| and more.  I would rather trust William*James to$9$ be disinterested."
305:107,17[B  ]|
305:107,18[A  ]| "Nay, Jack*Callcott is generous by$4$ nature, and I believe
305:107,19[A  ]| he would be disinterested."
305:107,20[B  ]| "In$4$ his way, he is generous.  But that$6#2$ is not the same as
305:107,21[B  ]| being disinterested, for$4$ all that$6#2$.  He wants to$9$ have his
305:107,22[B  ]| finger in$4$ the pie, that$6#2$ is what he wants.
305:107,23[A  ]| "To$9$ pull out plums?  That$6#2$ is not true."
305:107,24[B  ]| "Perhaps not to$9$ pull out money plums.  But to$9$ be
305:107,25[B  ]| bossy.  To$9$ be a Captain once more, feeling his feet and
305:107,26[B  ]| being a boss over something."
305:107,27[A  ]| "Why should not he be?"
305:107,28[B  ]| "Why not?  I do not care if he bosses all Australia and
305:107,29[B  ]| New*Zealand and all the lot.  But I do not see why you
305:107,30[B  ]| should call it disinterested.  Because it is not?"
305:107,31['  ]| He paused, struck.
305:107,32[A  ]| "Am I disinterested?"  
305:107,32['  ]| he asked.
305:107,33[B  ]| "Not" ~~ 
305:107,33['  ]| she hesitated ~~ 
305:107,33[B  ]| "not when you want just 
305:107,34[B  ]| \power\."
305:107,35[A  ]| "But I do not want just power.  I only see that$3$ somebody
305:107,36[A  ]| must have power, so$3$ those should have it who$6#1$ do not
305:107,37[A  ]| want it selfishly, and who$6#1$ have some natural gift for$4$ it,
305:107,38[A  ]| and some reverence for$4$ the sacredness of it."
305:107,39[B  ]| "Ha! ~~ power!  power!  What does it all mean, after
305:107,40[B  ]| all!  And especially in$4$ people like$4$ Jack*Callcott.  Where
305:107,41[B  ]| does he see any sacredness.  He is a sentimentalist, and as
305:107,42[B  ]| you say yourself, nothing is sacred then."
305:108,01['  ]| This discussion ended in$4$ a draw.  Harriet had struck
305:108,02['  ]| home once or twice, and she knew it.  That$6#2$ appeased her
305:108,03['  ]| for$4$ the moment.  But he stuck to$4$ his essential position,
305:108,04['  ]| though he was not so$5#1$ sure of the circumstantial standing.
305:108,05['  ]| Harriet loved Coo-ee, and was determined to$9$ be happy
305:108,06['  ]| there.  She had at last gradually realised that$3$ Lovat was
305:108,07['  ]| no$2$ longer lover to$4$ her or anybody, or even anything:  and
305:108,08['  ]| amidst the chagrin was a real relief.  
305:108,08@b   | Because he was her
305:108,09@b   | husband, that$6#2$ was undeniable.  And if, as her husband,
305:108,10@b   | he had to$9$ go on$5$ to$4$ other things, outside of marriage:  well,
305:108,11@b   | that$6#2$ was his affair.  
305:108,11['  ]| It only angered her when he thought
305:108,12['  ]| these other things ~~ revolutions or governments or whatnot
305:108,13['  ]| ~~ higher than their essential marriage.  
305:108,13@b   | But then he would
305:108,14@b   | come to$4$ himself and acknowledge that$3$ his marriage \was\
305:108,15@b   | the centre of his life, the core, the root, however he liked
305:108,16@b   | to$9$ put it:  and this other business was the inevitable excursion
305:108,17@b   | into his future, into the unknown, onwards, which$6#1$
305:108,18@b   | man by$4$ his nature was condemned to$9$ make, even if he lost
305:108,19@b   | his life a dozen times in$4$ it.  Well, so$5#2$ be it.  Let him make
305:108,20@b   | the excursion:  even without her.  But she was not, if she
305:108,21@b   | could help it, going to$9$ have him setting off on$4$ a trip that$6#1$
305:108,22@b   | led nowhere.  No$7$, if he was to$9$ excurse ahead, it must be
305:108,23@b   | ahead, and her instinct must be convinced as the needle of
305:108,24@b   | a mariner's compass is convinced.  And regarding this
305:108,25@b   | Australian business of Callcott's, she had her doubts.
305:108,26@b   | However, she had for$4$ the moment a home, where she felt
305:108,27@b   | for$4$ the moment as rooted, as central as the tree of life
305:108,28@b   | itself.  She was not a bit of flotsam, and she was not a dog
305:108,29@b   | chained to$4$ a dog-kennel.  Coo-ee might be absurd ~~ and
305:108,30@b   | she knew it was only a camp.  But then where she camped
305:108,31@b   | with Lovat*Somers was now the world's centre to$4$ her, and
305:108,32@b   | that$6#2$ was enough.
305:108,33['  ]| She loved to$9$ wake in$4$ the morning and open the bedroom
305:108,34['  ]| door ~~ they had the north bedroom, on$4$ the verandah, the
305:108,35['  ]| room that$6#1$ had the sun all day long; then she liked to$9$ lie
305:108,36['  ]| luxuriously in$4$ bed and watch the lovely, broken colours
305:108,37['  ]| of the Australian dawn:  always strange, mixed colours,
305:108,38['  ]| never the primary reds and yellows.  The sun rose on$4$ the
305:108,39['  ]| north-east ~~ she could hardly see it.  But she watched the
305:108,40['  ]| first yellow of morning, and then the strange, strong, smoky
305:108,41['  ]| red-purple of floating pieces of cloud:  then the rose and
305:108,42['  ]| mist blue of the horizon, and the sea all reddish, smoky
305:109,01['  ]| flesh-colour, moving under a film of gold like$4$ a glaze; then
305:109,02['  ]| the sea gradually going yellow, going primrose, with the
305:109,03['  ]| foam breaking blue as forget-me-nots or frost, in$4$ front.
305:109,04['  ]| And on$4$ the near swing of the bluey primrose, sticking up$5$
305:109,05['  ]| through the marvellous liquid pale yellow glaze, the black
305:109,06['  ]| fins of sharks.  The triangular, black fins of sharks, like$4$
305:109,07['  ]| small, hard sails of hell-boats, amid the swimming luminousness.
305:109,08['  ]| Then she would run out on$4$ the verandah.  Sharks!
305:109,09['  ]| Four or five sharks, skulking in$4$ the morning glow, and so$5#1$
305:109,10['  ]| near, she could almost have thrown bread to$4$ them.
305:109,11['  ]| Sharks, slinking along quite near the coast, as if they were
305:109,12['  ]| walking on$4$ the land.  She saw one caught in$4$ the heave of
305:109,13['  ]| a breaker, and lifted.  And then she saw him start, saw
305:109,14['  ]| the quick flurry of his tail as he flung himself back.  the
305:109,15['  ]| land to$4$ him was horror ~~ as to$4$ her the sea, beyond that$6#2$
305:109,16['  ]| wall of ice-blue foam.  She made Lovat come to$9$ look.  He
305:109,17['  ]| watched them slowly, holding the brush in$4$ his hand.  He
305:109,18['  ]| had made the fire, and was sweeping the hearth.  Coffee
305:109,19['  ]| was ready by$4$ the time Harriet was dressed:  and he was
305:109,20['  ]| crouching making toast.  They had breakfast together on$4$
305:109,21['  ]| the front verandah, facing the sea, eastwards.  And the
305:109,22['  ]| sun slanted warm, though it was mid-winter, and the
305:109,23['  ]| much-washed red-and-white tablecloth that$6#1$ had been in$4$ so$5#1$
305:109,24['  ]| many lands with them and that$6#1$ they used out-doors, looked
305:109,25['  ]| almost too strongly coloured in$4$ the tender seeming atmosphere.
305:109,26['  ]| The coffee had a lot of chickory in$4$ it, but the
305:109,27['  ]| butter and milk were good, and the brownish honey, that$6#1$
305:109,28['  ]| also, like$4$ the landscape, tasted queer, as if touched with
305:109,29['  ]| unkindled smoke.  It seemed to$4$ Somers as if 
305:109,29@a   | the people of
305:109,30@a   | Australia \ought\ to$9$ be dusky.  Think of Sicilian honey ~~
305:109,31@a   | like$4$ the sound of birds singing:  and now this with a dusky
305:109,32@a   | undertone to$4$ it.  But good too ~~ so$5#1$ good!
306:110,00@@@@@|
306:110,01['  ]| They went back to$4$ Sydney on$4$ the Thursday, for$4$ two days,
306:110,02['  ]| to$9$ pack up$5$ and return to$4$ Coo-ee.  All the time, they could
306:110,03['  ]| hear the sea.  It seemed strange that$3$ they felt the sea so$5#1$
306:110,04['  ]| far away, in$4$ Sydney.  In$4$ Sydney itself, there is no$2$ sea.
306:110,05['  ]| It might be Birmingham.  Even in$4$ Mullimbimby, a queer
306:110,06['  ]| raw little place, when Somers lifted his head and looked
306:110,07['  ]| down Main*Street and saw, a mile away, the high level of
306:110,08['  ]| the solid sea, it was almost a shock to$4$ him.  Half a mile
306:110,09['  ]| inland, the influence of the sea has disappeared, and the
306:110,10['  ]| land-sense is so$5#1$ heavy, buried, that$3$ it is hard to$9$ believe
306:110,11['  ]| that$3$ the dull rumble in$4$ the air is the ocean.  It sounds
306:110,12['  ]| like$4$ a coal-mine or something.
306:110,13[C  ]| "You will$1$ let Mr*Somers and me have a little chat to$4$
306:110,14[C  ]| ourselves, Mrs*Somers, will$1$ not you?"  
306:110,14['  ]| said Jack, appearing
306:110,15['  ]| after tea.
306:110,16[B  ]| "Willingly.  I assure you \I\ do not want to$9$ be bothered
306:110,17[B  ]| with your important affairs," 
306:110,17['  ]| said Harriet.  None the less
306:110,18['  ]| she went over rather resentfully to$4$ Victoria, turned out of
306:110,19['  ]| her own house.  
306:110,19@b   | It was not that$3$ she wanted to$9$ listen.  She
306:110,20@b   | would really have hated to$9$ attend to$4$ all their high-and-mighty
306:110,21@b   | revolution stuff.  She did not believe in$4$ revolutions
306:110,22@b   | ~~ they were \9vieux*jeu\, out of date.
306:110,23[C  ]| "Well," 
306:110,23['  ]| said Jack, settling down in$4$ a wooden arm-chair
306:110,24['  ]| and starting his pipe.  
306:110,24[C  ]| "You have thought it over, have
306:110,25[C  ]| you?"
306:110,26[A  ]| "Over and over," 
306:110,26['  ]| laughed Somers.
306:110,27[C  ]| "I knew you would."
306:110,28['  ]| He sucked his pipe and thought for$4$ a time.
306:110,29[C  ]| "I have had a long talk with Kangaroo about you
306:110,30[C  ]| to-day," 
306:110,30['  ]| he said.
306:110,31[A  ]| "Who$6#2$ is Kangaroo?"
306:110,32[C  ]| "He is the First," 
306:110,32['  ]| replied Jack slowly.  And again there
306:110,33['  ]| was silence.  Somers kept himself well in$4$ hand, and said
306:110,34['  ]| nothing.
306:110,35[C  ]| "A lawyer ~~ well up$5$ ~~ I knew him in$4$ the army, though.
306:110,36[C  ]| He was one of my lieutenants."
306:110,37['  ]| Still Somers waited, without speaking.
306:111,01[C  ]| "He would like$1$ to$9$ see you.  Should you care to$9$ have lunch
306:111,02[C  ]| with him and me in$4$ town to-morrow?"
306:111,03[A  ]| "Have you told him you have talked to$4$ me?"
306:111,04[C  ]| "Oh yes ~~ told him before I did it.  He knows your
306:111,05[C  ]| writings ~~ read all you have written, apparently.  He had heard
306:111,06[C  ]| about you too from a chap on$4$ the Naldera.  That$6#2$ is the
306:111,07[C  ]| boat you came by$4$, is not it?"
306:111,08[A  ]| "Yes," 
306:111,08['  ]| said Somers.
306:111,09[C  ]| "Yes," 
306:111,09['  ]| echoed Jack.  
306:111,09[C  ]| "He was all over me when I
306:111,10[C  ]| mentioned your name.  You would like$1$ Kangaroo.  He is a
306:111,11[C  ]| great chap."
306:111,12[A  ]| "What is his name?"
306:111,13[C  ]| "Cooley ~~ Ben ~~ Benjamin*Cooley."
306:111,14[A  ]| "They like$1$ him on$4$ the \Bulletin\, do not they?  Did not
306:111,15[A  ]| I see something about Ben*Cooley and his straight
306:111,16[A  ]| talk?"
306:111,17[C  ]| "Yes.  Oh, he can talk straight enough ~~ and crooked
306:111,18[C  ]| enough as well, if it comes to$4$ that$6#2$.  You will$1$ come to$4$ lunch
306:111,19[C  ]| then?  We lunch in$4$ his chambers."
306:111,20['  ]| Somers agreed.  Jack was silent, as if he had not much
306:111,21['  ]| more to$9$ say.  After a while he added reflectively:
306:111,22[C  ]| "Yes, I am glad to$9$ have brought you and Kangaroo
306:111,23[C  ]| together."
306:111,24[A  ]| "Why do they call him Kangaroo?"
306:111,25[C  ]| "Looks like$4$ one."
306:111,26['  ]| Again there was a silence, each man thinking his own
306:111,27['  ]| thoughts.
306:111,28[C  ]| "You and Kangaroo will$1$ catch on$5$ like$4$ wax, as far as
306:111,29[C  ]| ideas go," 
306:111,29['  ]| Jack prognosticated.  
306:111,29[C  ]| "But he is an unfeeling
306:111,30[C  ]| beggar, really.  And that$6#2$ is where you \will$1$ not\ cotton on$5$ to$4$
306:111,31[C  ]| him.  That$6#2$ is where \I\ come in$5$."
306:111,32['  ]| He looked at Somers with a faint smile.
306:111,33[A  ]| "Come in$5$ to$4$ what?"  
306:111,33['  ]| laughed Somers.
306:111,34['  ]| Jack took his pipe from his mouth with a little flourish.
306:111,35[C  ]| "In$4$ a job like$4$ this," 
306:111,35['  ]| he said, 
306:111,35[C  ]| "a man wants a mate ~~
306:111,36[C  ]| yes, a mate ~~ that$6#1$ he can say \anything\ to$4$, and be absolutely
306:111,37[C  ]| himself with.  Must have it.  And as far as I go ~~
306:111,38[C  ]| for$4$ me ~~ you do not mind if I say it, do you? ~~ Kangaroo
306:111,39[C  ]| could never have a mate.  He is as odd as any pho*enix
306:111,40[C  ]| bird I have ever heard tell of.  You could not mate him to$4$
306:111,41[C  ]| anything in$4$ the heavens above or in$4$ the earth beneath or
306:111,42[C  ]| in$4$ the waters under the earth.  No$7$, there is no$2$ female
306:112,01[C  ]| kangaroo of his species.  Fine chap, for$4$ all that$6#2$.  But as
306:112,02[C  ]| lonely as a nail in$4$ a post."
306:112,03[A  ]| "Sounds something fatal and fixed,"
306:112,03['  ]| laughed Somers.
306:112,04[C  ]| "It does.  And he \is\ fatal and fixed.  Those eyeglasses
306:112,05[C  ]| of his, you know ~~ they alone make a man into a sort of
306:112,06[C  ]| eye of God, rather glassy.  But my idea is, in$4$ a job like$4$
306:112,07[C  ]| this, every man should have a mate ~~ like$4$ most of us had
306:112,08[C  ]| in$4$ the war.  Mine was Victoria's brother ~~ and still is, in$4$
306:112,09[C  ]| a way.  But he got some sort of a sickness that$6#1$ seems to$9$
306:112,10[C  ]| have taken all the fight out of him.  Fooling about with
306:112,11[C  ]| the wrong sort of women.  Can not get his pecker up$5$ again
306:112,12[C  ]| now, the fool.  Poor devil and all."
306:112,13['  ]| Jack sighed and resumed his pipe.
306:112,14[C  ]| "Men fight better when they have got a mate.  They will$1$
306:112,15[C  ]| stand anything when they have got a mate,"  
306:112,15['  ]| he went on$5$
306:112,16['  ]| again after a while.  
306:112,16[C  ]| "But a mate is not all that$6#2$ easy to$9$
306:112,17[C  ]| strike.  We have a lot of decent chaps, stick at nothing once
306:112,18[C  ]| they wanted to$9$ put a thing through, in$4$ our lodge ~~ and in$4$
306:112,19[C  ]| my club.  But there is not one of them I feel is quite up$5$
306:112,20[C  ]| to$4$ me ~~ if you know what I mean.  Rattling good fellows
306:112,21[C  ]| ~~ but nary one of them quite my cut."
306:112,22[A  ]| "That$6#2$ is usually so$5#2$," 
306:112,22['  ]| laughed Somers.
306:112,23[C  ]| "It is," 
306:112,23['  ]| said Jack.  Then he narrowed and diminished
306:112,24['  ]| his voice.  
306:112,24[C  ]| "Now I feel," 
306:112,24['  ]| he said cautiously and intensely,
306:112,25[C  ]| "that$3$ if you and me was mates, we could put any damn
306:112,26[C  ]| mortal thing through, if we had to$9$ knock the bottom out
306:112,27[C  ]| of the blanky show to$9$ do it."
306:112,28['  ]| Somers dropped his head.  
306:112,28@a   | He liked the man.  But what
306:112,29@a   | about the cause?  What about the mistrust and reluctancy
306:112,30@a   | he felt?  And at the same time, the thrill of desire.
306:112,31@a   | What was offered?  He wanted so$5#1$ much.  To$9$ be mates with
306:112,32@a   | Jack in$4$ this cause.  Life and death mates.  And yet he
306:112,33@a   | felt he could not.  Not quite.  Something stopped him.
306:112,34['  ]| He looked up$5$ at Callcott.  The other man's face was
306:112,35['  ]| alert and waiting:  curiously naked a face too.  Somers
306:112,36['  ]| wished it had had even a moustache, anything rather than
306:112,37['  ]| this clean, all-clean bare flesh.  
306:112,37@a   | If Jack had only had a
306:112,38@a   | beard too ~~ like$4$ a man ~~ and not one of these clean-shaven,
306:112,39@a   | too-much exposed faces.  Alert, waiting face ~~ almost
306:112,40@a   | lurking, waiting for$4$ an answer.
306:112,41[A  ]| "Could we ever be \quite\ mates?"  
306:112,41['  ]| Somers asked gently.
306:112,42['  ]| Jack's dark eyes watched the other man fixedly.  
306:112,42@a   | Jack
306:113,01@a   | himself was not unlike a kangaroo, 
306:113,01['  ]| thought Somers:  
306:113,01@a   | a long-faced,
306:113,02@a   | smooth-faced, strangely watchful kangaroo with
306:113,03@a   | powerful hindquarters.
306:113,04[C  ]| "Perhaps not as me and Fred*Wilmot was.  In$4$ a way
306:113,05[C  ]| you are higher up$5$ than I am.  But that$6#2$ is what I like$1$, you
306:113,06[C  ]| know ~~ a mate that$6#1$ is better than I am, a mate who$6#1$ I \feel\
306:113,07[C  ]| is better than I am.  That$6#2$ is what I feel about you:  and
306:113,08[C  ]| that$6#2$ is what makes me feel, if we was mates, I would stick to$4$
306:113,09[C  ]| you through hell fire and back, and we would clear some land
306:113,10[C  ]| between us.  I \know\ if you and me was mates, we could put
306:113,11[C  ]| any blooming thing through.  There would be nothing to$9$ stop us."
306:113,12[A  ]| "Not even Kangaroo?"
306:113,13[C  ]| "Oh, he would be our way, and we would be his.  He is a sensible
306:113,14[C  ]| chap."
306:113,15['  ]| Somers was tempted to$9$ give Jack his hand there and
306:113,16['  ]| then, and pledge himself to$4$ a friendship, or a comradeship,
306:113,17['  ]| that$6#1$ nothing should ever alter.  He wanted to$9$ do it.  Yet
306:113,18['  ]| something withheld him as if an invisible hand were upon$4$
306:113,19['  ]| him, preventing him.
306:113,20[A  ]| "I am not sure that$3$ I am a mating man, either,"  
306:113,20['  ]| he said
306:113,21['  ]| slowly.
306:113,22[C  ]| "You?"  
306:113,22['  ]| Jack eyed him.  
306:113,22[C  ]| "You are and you are not.
306:113,23[C  ]| If you would once come over ~~ why man, do you think I
306:113,24[C  ]| would not lay my life down for$4$ you!"
306:113,25['  ]| Somers went pale.  He did not want anybody laying
306:113,26['  ]| down their lives for$4$ him.  
306:113,26@z   | "Greater love than this ~~ "
306:113,27['  ]| But he did not want his great love.  He did not \believe\ in$4$
306:113,28['  ]| it:  in$4$ that$6#2$ way of love.
306:113,29[A  ]| "Let us leave it, Jack," 
306:113,29['  ]| he replied, laughing slowly and
306:113,30['  ]| rising, giving his hand to$4$ the other man.  
306:113,30[A  ]| "Do not let us
306:113,31[A  ]| make any pledges yet.  We are friends, whatever else we
306:113,32[A  ]| are.  As for$4$ being mates ~~ wait till I feel sure.  Wait till
306:113,33[A  ]| I have seen Kangaroo.  Wait till I see my way clear.  I
306:113,34[A  ]| feel I am only six strides down the way yet, and you ask me
306:113,35[A  ]| to$9$ be at the end."
306:113,36[C  ]| "At the start you mean," 
306:113,36['  ]| said Jack, gripping the other
306:113,37['  ]| man's hand, and rising too.  
306:113,37[C  ]| "But take your time, old
306:113,38[C  ]| man."  
306:113,38['  ]| He laid his hand on$4$ Somers' shoulder.  
306:113,38[C  ]| "If
306:113,39[C  ]| you are slow and backward like$4$ a woman, it is because it is
306:113,40[C  ]| your nature.  Not like$4$ me, I go at it in$4$ jumps like$4$ a
306:113,41[C  ]| kangaroo.  I feel I could jump clean through the blooming
306:113,42[C  ]| tent-canvas sometimes."  
306:113,42['  ]| As he spoke he was pale and
306:114,01['  ]| tense with emotion, and his eyes were like$4$ black holes,
306:114,02['  ]| almost wounds in$4$ the pallor of his face.
306:114,03['  ]| Somers was in$4$ a dilemma.  
306:114,03@a   | Did he want to$9$ mix and
306:114,04@a   | make with this man?  One part of him perhaps did.  But
306:114,05@a   | not a very big part, since for$4$ his life he could not help
306:114,06@a   | resenting it when Jack put his hand on$4$ his shoulder, or
306:114,07@a   | called him "old man."  It was not the commonness either.
306:114,08@a   | Jack's "common" speech and manner was largely
306:114,09@a   | assumed ~~ part of the colonial bluff.  He could be accurate
306:114,10@a   | enough if he chose ~~ 
306:114,10['  ]| as Somers knew already, and would
306:114,11['  ]| soon know more emphatically.  
306:114,11@a   | No$7$, it was not the
306:114,12@a   | commonness, the vulgar touch in$4$ the approach.  Jack was
306:114,13@a   | sensitive enough, really.  
306:114,13['  ]| And the quiet, well-bred appeal
306:114,14['  ]| of upper-class young Englishmen, who$6#1$ have the same
306:114,15['  ]| yearning for$4$ intimate comradeship, combined with a sensitive
306:114,16['  ]| delicacy really finer than a woman's, this made Somers
306:114,17['  ]| shrink just the same.  He half wanted to$9$ commit himself
306:114,18['  ]| to$4$ this whole affection with a friend, a comrade, a mate.
306:114,19['  ]| And then, in$4$ the last issue, he did not want it at all.  The
306:114,20['  ]| affection would be deep and genuine enough:  that$6#2$ he knew.
306:114,21['  ]| But ~~ when it came to$4$ the point, he did not want any more
306:114,22['  ]| affection.  All his life he had cherished a beloved ideal of
306:114,23['  ]| friendship ~~ David and Jonathan.  And now, when true
306:114,24['  ]| and good friends offered, he found he simply could not
306:114,25['  ]| commit himself, even to$4$ simple friendship.  The whole
306:114,26['  ]| trend of this affection, this mingling, this intimacy, this
306:114,27['  ]| truly beautiful love, he found his soul just set against it.
306:114,28['  ]| He could not go along with it.  He did not want a friend,
306:114,29['  ]| he did not want loving affection, he did not want comradeship.
306:114,30['  ]| No$7$, his soul trembled when he tried to$9$ drive it along
306:114,31['  ]| the way, trembled and stood still, like$4$ Balaam's Ass.  It
306:114,32['  ]| did not want friendship or comradeship, great or small,
306:114,33['  ]| deep or shallow.
306:114,34['  ]| It took Lovat*Somers some time before he would really
306:114,35['  ]| admit and accept this new fact.  Not till he had striven
306:114,36['  ]| hard with his soul did he come to$9$ see the angel in$4$ the way;
306:114,37['  ]| not till his soul, like$4$ Balaam's Ass, had spoken more than
306:114,38['  ]| once.  And then, when forced to$9$ admit, it was a revolution
306:114,39['  ]| in$4$ his mind.  He had all his life had this craving for$4$
306:114,40['  ]| an absolute friend, a David to$4$ his Jonathan, Pylades to$4$
306:114,41['  ]| his Orestes:  a blood-brother.  All his life he had secretly
306:114,42['  ]| grieved over his friendlessness.  And now at last, when it
306:115,01['  ]| really offered ~~ and it had offered twice before, since he had
306:115,02['  ]| left Europe ~~ he did not want it, and he realised that$3$ in$4$ his
306:115,03['  ]| innermost soul he had never wanted it.
306:115,04@a   | Yet he wanted \some\ living fellowship with other men;
306:115,05@a   | as it was he was just isolated.  Maybe a living fellowship!
306:115,06@a   | ~~ but not affection, not love, not comradeship.  Not mates
306:115,07@a   | and equality and mingling.  Not blood-brotherhood.  None
306:115,08@a   | of that$6#2$.
306:115,09@a   | What else?  He did not know.  He only knew he was
306:115,10@a   | never destined to$9$ be mate or comrade or even friend with
306:115,11@a   | any man.  Some other living relationship.  But what?
306:115,12@a   | He did not know.  Perhaps the thing that$6#1$ the dark races
306:115,13@a   | know:  that$6#1$ one can still feel in$4$ India:  the mystery of lordship.
306:115,14@a   | That$6#2$ which$6#1$ white men have struggled so$5#1$ long
306:115,15@a   | against, and which$6#1$ is the clue to$4$ the life of the Hindu.
306:115,16@a   | The mystery of lordship.  The mystery of innate, natural,
306:115,17@a   | sacred priority.  The other mystic relationship between
306:115,18@a   | men, which$6#1$ democracy and equality try to$9$ deny and
306:115,19@a   | obliterate.  Not any arbitrary caste or birth aristocracy.
306:115,20@a   | But the mystic recognition of difference and innate priority,
306:115,21@a   | the joy of obedience and the sacred responsibility of
306:115,22@a   | authority.
306:115,23['  ]| Before Somers went down to$4$ George*Street to$9$ find Jack
306:115,24['  ]| and to$9$ be taken by$4$ him to$4$ luncheon with the Kangaroo,
306:115,25['  ]| he had come to$4$ the decision, or to$4$ the knowledge that$3$
306:115,26['  ]| mating or comradeship were contrary to$4$ his destiny.  He
306:115,27['  ]| would never pledge himself to$4$ Jack, nor to$4$ this venture in$4$
306:115,28['  ]| which$6#1$ Jack was concerned.
306:115,29['  ]| They arrived at Mr*Cooley's chambers punctually.  It
306:115,30['  ]| was a handsome apartment with handsome jarrah furniture,
306:115,31['  ]| dark and suave, and some very beautiful rugs.  Mr*Cooley
306:115,32['  ]| came at once:  and he \was\ a kangaroo.  His face
306:115,33['  ]| was long and lean and pendulous, with eyes set close
306:115,34['  ]| together behind his 9pince-nez: and his body was stout but
306:115,35['  ]| firm.  He was a man of forty or so$5#2$, hard to$9$ tell, swarthy,
306:115,36['  ]| with short-cropped dark hair and a smallish head carried
306:115,37['  ]| rather forward on$4$ his large but sensitive, almost shy body.
306:115,38['  ]| He leaned forward in$4$ his walk, and seemed as if his hands
306:115,39['  ]| did not quite belong to$4$ him.  But he shook hands with a
306:115,40['  ]| firm grip.  He was really tall, but his way of dropping his
306:115,41['  ]| head, and his sloping shoulders, took away from his height.
306:115,42['  ]| He seemed not much taller than Somers, towards whom he
306:116,01['  ]| seemed to$9$ lean the sensitive tip of his long nose, hanging
306:116,02['  ]| over him as he scrutinised him sharply through his eyeglasses,
306:116,03['  ]| and approaching him with the front of his stomach.
306:116,04[G  ]| "Very glad to$9$ see you," 
306:116,04['  ]| he said, in$4$ a voice half Australian,
306:116,05['  ]| half official.
306:116,06['  ]| The luncheon was almost impressive:  a round table with
306:116,07['  ]| a huge bunch of violets in$4$ a queer old bowl, Queen*Anne
306:116,08['  ]| silver, a tablecloth with heavy point edging,
306:116,09['  ]| Venetian wine-glases, red and white wine in$4$ Venetian wine-jugs,
306:116,10['  ]| a Chinaman waiting at table, offering first a silver
306:116,11['  ]| dish of 9hors*d'o*euvres and a handsome crayfish with
306:116,12['  ]| mayonnaise.
306:116,13[A  ]| "Why," 
306:116,13['  ]| said Somers, equivocally, 
306:116,13[A  ]| "I might be anywhere."
306:116,14[A  ]|
306:116,15['  ]| Kangaroo looked at him sharply.  Somers noticed that$3$
306:116,16['  ]| when he sat down, his thighs in$4$ his dark grey, striped
306:116,17['  ]| trousers were very thick, making his shoulders seem almost
306:116,18['  ]| slender; but though his stomach was stout, it was firm.
306:116,19[G  ]| "Then I hope you feel at home," 
306:116,19['  ]| said Kangaroo.
306:116,20[G  ]| "Because I am sure you are at home anywhere."  
306:116,20['  ]| And he
306:116,21['  ]| helped himself to$4$ olives, putting one in$4$ his queer, pursed,
306:116,22['  ]| thick-lipped mouth.
306:116,23[A  ]| "For$4$ which$6#1$ reason I am never at home, presumably."
306:116,24[G  ]| "That$6#2$ may easily be the case.  Will$1$ you take red or
306:116,25[G  ]| white wine?"
306:116,26[A  ]| "White," 
306:116,26['  ]| said Somers, oblivious of the poised Chinaman.
306:116,27['  ]|
306:116,28[G  ]| "You have come to$4$ a homely country," 
306:116,28['  ]| said the
306:116,29['  ]| Kangaroo, without the ghost of a smile.
306:116,30[A  ]| "Certainly to$4$ a very hospitable one."
306:116,31[G  ]| "We rarely lock our doors," 
306:116,31['  ]| said Kangaroo.
306:116,32[C  ]| "Or anything else," 
306:116,32['  ]| said Jack.  
306:116,32[C  ]| "Though of course
306:116,33[C  ]| we may slay you in$4$ the scullery if you say a word against
306:116,34[C  ]| us."
306:116,35[A  ]| "I am not going to$9$ be so$5#1$ indiscreet," 
306:116,35['  ]| said Somers.
306:116,36[C  ]| "Leave the indiscretion to$4$ us.  We believe in$4$ it.
306:116,37[C  ]| Indiscretion is the better part of valour.  You agree,
306:116,38[C  ]| Kangaroo?"  
306:116,38['  ]| said Jack, smiling over his plate discreetly at
306:116,39['  ]| his host.
306:116,40[G  ]| "I do not think I would care to$9$ see you turn discreet, boy,"
306:116,41['  ]| returned the other.  
306:116,41[G  ]| "Though your quotation is not new."
306:116,42[C  ]| "Even a crystal-gazer can not gaze to$4$ the bottom of a
306:117,01[C  ]| deep well, eh?  Never mind, I am as shallow as a pie-dish,
306:117,02[C  ]| and proud of it.  Red, please."  
306:117,02['  ]| This to$4$ the Chink.
306:117,03[G  ]| "That$6#2$ is why it is so$5#1$ nice knowing you," 
306:117,03['  ]| said Kangaroo.
306:117,04[C  ]| "And you, of course, are a glass finger-bowl with a violet
306:117,05[C  ]| floating on$4$ it, you are so$5#1$ transparent," 
306:117,05['  ]| said Jack.
306:117,06[G  ]| "I think that$6#2$ describes me beautifully.  Mr*Somers,
306:117,07[G  ]| help yourself to$4$ wine, that$6#2$ is the most comfortable.  I hope
306:117,08[G  ]| you are going to$9$ write something for$4$ us.  Australia is waiting
306:117,09[G  ]| for$4$ her Homer ~~ or her Theocritus."
306:117,10[C  ]| "Or even her Ally*Sloper," 
306:117,10['  ]| said Jack, 
306:117,10[C  ]| "if I may be
306:117,11[C  ]| permitted to$9$ be so$5#1$ old-fashioned."
306:117,12[A  ]| "If I were but blind," 
306:117,12['  ]| said Somers, 
306:117,12[A  ]| "I might have a
306:117,13[A  ]| shot at Australian Homeries."
306:117,14[C  ]| "His eyes hurt him still, with looking at Sydney," 
306:117,14['  ]| said
306:117,15['  ]| Jack.
306:117,16[G  ]| "There certainly is enough of it to$9$ look at," 
306:117,16['  ]| said
306:117,17['  ]| Kangaroo.
306:117,18[C  ]| "In$4$ acreage," 
306:117,18['  ]| said Jack.
306:117,19[A  ]| "Pity it spreads over so$5#1$ much ground," 
306:117,19['  ]| said Somers
306:117,20[X  ]| "Oh, every man his little lot, and an extended tram-service."
306:117,21[X  ]|
306:117,22[A  ]| "In$4$ Rome," 
306:117,22['  ]| said Somers, 
306:117,22[A  ]| "they piled up$5$ huge houses,
306:117,23[A  ]| vast, and stowed them away like$4$ grubs in$4$ a honey-comb."
306:117,24[A  ]| 
306:117,25[C  ]| "Who$6#2$ did the stowing?"  
306:117,25['  ]| asked Jack sarcastically.
306:117,26[G  ]| "We do not like$1$ to$9$ have anybody overhead here," 
306:117,26['  ]| said
306:117,27['  ]| Kangaroo.  
306:117,27[G  ]| "We do not even care to$9$ go upstairs, because
306:117,28[G  ]| we are then one storey higher than our true, ground-floor
306:117,29[G  ]| selves."
306:117,30[C  ]| "Prop us up$5$ on$4$ a dozen stumps, and we are cosy," 
306:117,30['  ]| said
306:117,31['  ]| Jack.  
306:117,31[C  ]| "Just a little above the earth level, and no$2$ higher,
306:117,32[C  ]| you know.  Australians in$4$ their heart of hearts hate anything
306:117,33[C  ]| but a bungalow.  They feel it is rock bottom, do not 
306:117,34[C  ]| you see.  None of your stair-climbing shams and upstairs
306:117,35[C  ]| importance."
306:117,36[G  ]| "Good honest fellows," 
306:117,36['  ]| said Kangaroo, and it was
306:117,37['  ]| impossible to$9$ know if he were joking or not.
306:117,38[C  ]| "Till it comes to$4$ business," 
306:117,38['  ]| said Jack.
306:117,39['  ]| Kangaroo then started a discussion of the much-mooted
306:117,40['  ]| and at the moment fashionable Theory of Relativity.
306:117,41[C  ]| "Of course it is popular," 
306:117,41['  ]| said Jack.  
306:117,41[C  ]| "It absolutely
306:117,42[C  ]| takes the wind out of anybody's sails who$6#1$ wants to$9$ say
306:118,01@x   | ""I am \It\.""  
306:118,01[C  ]| Even the Lord*Almighty is only relatively so$5#2$
306:118,02[C  ]| and as it were."
306:118,03[A  ]| "How nice for$4$ us all," 
306:118,03['  ]| laughed Somers.  
306:118,03[A  ]| "It needed a
306:118,04[A  ]| Jew to$9$ lead us this last step in$4$ liberty."
306:118,05[C  ]| "Now we are all little \Its\, chirping like$4$ so$5#1$ many molecules
306:118,06[C  ]| one with another,"  
306:118,06['  ]| said Jack, eyeing the roast duck
306:118,07['  ]| with a shrewd gaze.
306:118,08['  ]| The luncheon passed frivolously.  Somers was bored,
306:118,09['  ]| but he had a shrewd suspicion that$3$ the other two men
306:118,10['  ]| really enjoyed it.  They sauntered into the study for$4$ coffee.
306:118,11['  ]| It was a smallish room, with big, deep leather chairs of a
306:118,12['  ]| delicate brown colour, and a thick, bluey oriental carpet.
306:118,13['  ]| The walls even had an upper panelling of old embossed
306:118,14['  ]| cordovan leather, a bluish colouring with gilt, old and
306:118,15['  ]| tarnished away.  It was evident that$3$ law pays, even in$4$ a
306:118,16['  ]| new country.
306:118,17['  ]| Everybody waited for$4$ everybody to$9$ speak.  Somers, of
306:118,18['  ]| course, knew it was not his business to$9$ begin.
306:118,19[G  ]| "The indiscreet Callcott told you about our Kangaroo
306:118,20[G  ]| clubs," 
306:118,20['  ]| said the host, smiling faintly.  Somers thought
306:118,21['  ]| that$3$ surely he had Jewish blood in$4$ him.  He stirred his
306:118,22['  ]| little gold coffee-cup slowly.
306:118,23[A  ]| "He gave me a very sketchy outline."
306:118,24[G  ]| "It interested you?"
306:118,25[A  ]| "Exceedingly."
306:118,26[G  ]| "I read your series of articles on$4$ Democracy," 
306:118,26['  ]| said
306:118,27['  ]| Kangaroo.  
306:118,27[G  ]| "In$4$ fact they helped me to$4$ this attempt
306:118,28[G  ]| now."
306:118,29[A  ]| "I thought not a soul read them," 
306:118,29['  ]| said Somers, 
306:118,29[A  ]| "in$4$
306:118,30[A  ]| that$6#2$ absurd international paper published at the Hague,
306:118,31[A  ]| that$6#1$ they said was run absolutely by$4$ spies and shady
306:118,32[A  ]| people."
306:118,33[G  ]| "It may have been.  But I was a subscriber, and I read
306:118,34[G  ]| your essays here in$4$ Sydney.  There was another man, too,
306:118,35[G  ]| writing on$4$ a new aristocracy.  But it seemed to$4$ me there
306:118,36[G  ]| was too much fraternising in$4$ his scheme, too much reverence
306:118,37[G  ]| for$4$ the upper classes and passionate pity for$4$ the
306:118,38[G  ]| working classes.  He wanted them all to$9$ be kind to$4$ one
306:118,39[G  ]| another, aristocrats of the spirit."  
306:118,39['  ]| Kangaroo smiled
306:118,40['  ]| slowly.  And when he smiled like$4$ that$6#2$, there came an
306:118,41['  ]| exceedingly sweet charm into his face, for$4$ a moment his
306:118,42['  ]| face was like$4$ a flower.  Yet he was quite ugly.  
306:118,42@a   | And
306:119,01@a   | surely, 
306:119,01['  ]| thought Somers, 
306:119,01@a   | it is Jewish blood.  The very
306:119,02@a   | best that$6#1$ is in$4$ the Jewish blood:  a faculty for$4$ pure disinterestedness,
306:119,03@a   | and warm, physically warm love, that$6#1$ seems
306:119,04@a   | to$9$ make the corpuscles of the blood glow.  And after the
306:119,05@a   | smile his face went stupid and kangaroo-like, pendulous,
306:119,06@a   | with the eyes close together above the long, drooping nose.
306:119,07@a   | But the shape of the head was very beautiful, small, light,
306:119,08@a   | and fine.  The man had surely Jewish blood.  And he was
306:119,09@a   | almost purely \kind\, essential kindliness, embodied in$4$ an
306:119,10@a   | ancient, unscrupulous shrewdness.  He was so$5#1$ shrewd, so$5#1$
306:119,11@a   | clever.  And with a rogue or a mean man, absolutely
306:119,12@a   | unscrupulous.  But for$4$ any human being who$6#1$ showed
306:119,13@a   | himself sincere and vulnerable, his heart was pure in$4$ kindness.
306:119,14@a   | An extraordinary man.  This pure kindliness had
306:119,15@a   | something Jehovah-like in$4$ it.  And in$4$ every difficult and
306:119,16@a   | every stress, he would remember it, his kindly love for$4$ real,
306:119,17@a   | vulnerable human beings.  It had given his soul an
306:119,18@a   | absolute direction, whatever he said about relativity.  Yet
306:119,19@a   | once he felt any man or woman was cold, mean, barren of
306:119,20@a   | this love which$6#1$ was in$4$ him then he became at once
306:119,21@a   | utterly unscrupulous in$4$ defeating the creature.  He was
306:119,22@a   | not angry or indignant.  He was more like$4$ a real Jehovah.
306:119,23@a   | He had only to$9$ turn on$5$ all the levers and forces of his
306:119,24@a   | clever, almost fiendishly subtle will$0$, and he could triumph.
306:119,25@a   | And he knew it.  
306:119,25['  ]| Somers had once had a Jewish friend
306:119,26['  ]| with this wonderful, Jehovah-like kindliness, but also,
306:119,27['  ]| without the shrewd fiendish subtlety or will$0$.  But it helped
306:119,28['  ]| him to$9$ understand Cooley.
306:119,29[A  ]| "Yes ~~ I think the man sent me his book," 
306:119,29['  ]| said Somers.
306:119,30[A  ]| "I forget his name.  I only remember there was a feverish
306:119,31[A  ]| adulation of Lord*Something-or-other, and a terrible \9cri*du*co*eur\
306:119,32[A  ]| about the mother of the people, the poor elderly
306:119,33[A  ]| woman in$4$ a battered black bonnet and a shawl, going out
306:119,34[A  ]| with six-pence ha'-penny to$9$ buy a shillings-worth of necessaries
306:119,35[A  ]| for$4$ the home."
306:119,36[G  ]| "Just so$5#2$," 
306:119,36['  ]| said Kangaroo, smiling again.  
306:119,36[G  ]| "No$2$ doubt
306:119,37[G  ]| her husband drank.  If he did, who$6#2$ can wonder."
306:119,38[A  ]| "The very sight of her makes one want to$9$ shove her out
306:119,39[A  ]| of the house ~~ or out of the world, for$4$ that$6#2$ matter," 
306:119,39['  ]| said
306:119,40['  ]| Somers.
306:119,41[C  ]| "Nay," 
306:119,41['  ]| said Jack.  
306:119,41[C  ]| "She is enjoying her misery, dear
306:119,42[C  ]| old soul.  Do not envy her her bits of pleasures."
306:120,01[A  ]| "Not envy," 
306:120,01['  ]| laughed Somers.  
306:120,01[A  ]| "But I begrudge them
306:120,02[A  ]| her."
306:120,03[G  ]| "What would you do with her?"  
306:120,03['  ]| asked Kangaroo.
306:120,04[A  ]| "I would not do anything.  She mostly creeps in$4$ the
306:120,05[A  ]| East*End, where one need not bother about her.  And she is
306:120,06[A  ]| as much at home there as an opossum is in$4$ the bush.  So$3$
306:120,07[A  ]| do not bother me about her."
306:120,08[G  ]| "Just so$5#2$," 
306:120,08['  ]| smiled Kangaroo.  
306:120,08[G  ]| "I would like$1$ to$9$ provide
306:120,09[G  ]| public kitchens where the children can get properly fed ~~
306:120,10[G  ]| and make the husbands do a certain amount of state labour
306:120,11[G  ]| to$9$ pay for$4$ it.  And for$4$ the rest, leave them to$9$ go their
306:120,12[G  ]| own way."
306:120,13[A  ]| "But their minds, their souls, their spirits?"  
306:120,13['  ]| said
306:120,14['  ]| Somers.
306:120,15[G  ]| "They must more or less look after them themselves.
306:120,16[G  ]| I want to$9$ keep \order\.  I want to$9$ remove physical misery
306:120,17[G  ]| as far as possible.  That$6#2$ I am sure of.  And that$3$ you can
306:120,18[G  ]| only do by$4$ exerting strong, just \power\ from above.  There
306:120,19[G  ]| I agree with you."
306:120,20[A  ]| "You do not believe in$4$ education?"
306:120,21[G  ]| "Not much.  That$6#2$ is to$9$ say, in$4$ ninety per*cent% of the
306:120,22[G  ]| people it is useless.  But I do want those ninety per*cent%
306:120,23[G  ]| none the less to$9$ have full, substantial lives:  as even slaves
306:120,24[G  ]| have had under certain masters, and as our people hardly
306:120,25[G  ]| have at all.  That$6#2$ again, I think, is one of your ideas."
306:120,26[A  ]| "It is," 
306:120,26['  ]| said Somers.  But his heart sank.  
306:120,26[A  ]| "You want
306:120,27[A  ]| a kind of benevolent tyranny, then?"
306:120,28[G  ]| "Not exactly.  You see my tyrant would be so$5#1$ much
306:120,29[G  ]| circumscribed by$4$ the constitution I should establish.  But
306:120,30[G  ]| in$4$ a sense, he would be a tyrant.  Perhaps it would be
306:120,31[G  ]| nearer to$9$ say he would be a patriarch, or a pope:  representing
306:120,32[G  ]| as near as possible the wise, subtle spirit of life.
306:120,33[G  ]| I should try to$9$ establish my state of Australia as a kind of
306:120,34[G  ]| Church, with the profound reverence of life, for$4$ life's
306:120,35[G  ]| deepest urges, as the motive power.  Dostoevsky suggests
306:120,36[G  ]| this:  and I believe it can be done."
306:120,37[A  ]| "Perhaps it might be done here," 
306:120,37['  ]| blurted Somers.
306:120,38[A  ]| "Every continent has its own way, and its own needs."
306:120,39[G  ]| "I agree,"  
306:120,39['  ]| said Kangaroo.  
306:120,39[G  ]| "I have the greatest
306:120,40[G  ]| admiration for$4$ the Roman*Catholic Church, as an institution.
306:120,41[G  ]| But the creed and the theology are not natural to$4$
306:120,42[G  ]| me, quite.  Not quite.  I think we need something more
306:121,01[G  ]| flexible, and a power less formal and dogmatic; more
306:121,02[G  ]| generous, shall I say.  A \generous\ power, that$6#1$ sees all the
306:121,03[G  ]| issue here, not in$4$ the after-life, and that$6#1$ does not concern
306:121,04[G  ]| itself with sin and repentance and redemption.  I should
306:121,05[G  ]| try to$9$ teach my people what it is truly to$9$ be a \man\, and
306:121,06[G  ]| a woman.  The salvation of souls seems too speculative a
306:121,07[G  ]| job.  I think if a man is truly a man, true to$4$ his own being,
306:121,08[G  ]| his soul saves itself in$4$ that$6#2$ way.  But no$2$ two people can
306:121,09[G  ]| save their souls alive, in$4$ the same way.  As far as possible,
306:121,10[G  ]| we must leave it to$4$ them.  \7Fata 7volentem 7ducun\,
306:121,11[G  ]| \7nolentem 7trahunt\."
306:121,12[A  ]| "I believe that$6#2$ too."
306:121,13[G  ]| "Yet there must be law, and there must be authority.
306:121,14[G  ]| But law more human, and authority much wiser.  If a
306:121,15[G  ]| man loves life, and feels the sacredness and the mystery
306:121,16[G  ]| of life, then he knows that$3$ life is full of strange and subtle
306:121,17[G  ]| and even conflicting imperatives.  And a wise man learns
306:121,18[G  ]| to$9$ recognise the imperatives as they arise ~~ or nearly so$5#2$ ~~
306:121,19[G  ]| and to$9$ obey.  But most men bruise themselves to$4$ death
306:121,20[G  ]| trying to$9$ fight and overcome their own new, life-born
306:121,21[G  ]| needs, life's ever-strange new imperatives.  The secret of
306:121,22[G  ]| all life is in$4$ obedience:  obedience to$4$ the urge that$6#1$ arises
306:121,23[G  ]| in$4$ the soul, the urge that$6#1$ is life itself, urging us on$5$ to$4$ new
306:121,24[G  ]| gestures, new embraces, new emotions, new combinations,
306:121,25[G  ]| new creations.  It is a subtle and conflicting urge away
306:121,26[G  ]| from the thing we are.  And there lies the pain.  Because
306:121,27[G  ]| man builds himself in$5$ to$4$ his old house of life, builds his
306:121,28[G  ]| own blood into the roads he lays down, and to$9$ break from
306:121,29[G  ]| the old way, and to$9$ change his house of life, is almost like$4$
306:121,30[G  ]| tearing him to$4$ pieces:  a sacrilege.  Life is cruel ~~ and
306:121,31[G  ]| above all things man needs to$9$ be reassured and suggested
306:121,32[G  ]| into his new issues.  And he needs to$9$ be relieved from this
306:121,33[G  ]| terrible responsibility of governing himself when he does not
306:121,34[G  ]| know what he wants, and has no$2$ aim towards which$6#1$ to$9$
306:121,35[G  ]| govern himself.  Man again needs a farther ~~ not a friend
306:121,36[G  ]| or a brother sufferer, a suffering Saviour.  Man needs a
306:121,37[G  ]| quiet, gentle father who$6#1$ uses his authority in$4$ the name of
306:121,38[G  ]| living life, and who$6#1$ is absolutely stern against anti-life.
306:121,39[G  ]| I offer no$2$ creed.  I offer myself, my heart of wisdom,
306:121,40[G  ]| strange warm cavern where the voice of the oracle steams
306:121,41[G  ]| in$5$ from the unknown; I offer my consciousness, which$6#1$
306:121,42[G  ]| hears the voice; and I offer my mind and my will$0$, for$4$ the
306:122,01[G  ]| battle against every obstacle to$9$ respond to$4$ the voice of life,
306:122,02[G  ]| and to$9$ shelter mankind from the madness and the evil of
306:122,03[G  ]| anti-life."
306:122,04[A  ]| "You believe in$4$ evil?"
306:122,05[G  ]| "Ah, yes.  Evil is the great principle that$6#1$ opposes life
306:122,06[G  ]| in$4$ its new urges.  The principle of permanency, everylastingness
306:122,07[G  ]| is, in$4$ my opinion, the root of evil.  The Ten
306:122,08[G  ]| Commandments which$6#1$ Moses heard were the very voice
306:122,09[G  ]| of life.  But the tablets of stone he engraved them on$4$ are
306:122,10[G  ]| millstones round our necks.  Commandments should fade
306:122,11[G  ]| as flowers do.  They are no$2$ more divine than flowers are.
306:122,12[G  ]| But our divine flowers ~~ look at those hibiscus ~~ they do not
306:122,13[G  ]| want to$9$ immmortalise themselves into stone.  If they turned
306:122,14[G  ]| into stone on$4$ my table, my heart would almost stop beating,
306:122,15[G  ]| and lose its hope and its joy.  But they will$1$ not.  They
306:122,16[G  ]| will$1$ quietly, gently wither.  And I love them for$4$ it.  And
306:122,17[G  ]| so$3$ should all creeds, all gods, quietly and gently curl up$5$
306:122,18[G  ]| and wither as their evening approaches.   That$6#2$ is the only
306:122,19[G  ]| way of true holiness, in$4$ my opinion."
306:122,20@a   | The man had a beautiful voice, when he was really
306:122,21@a   | talking.  It was like$4$ a flute, a wood-instrument.  And his
306:122,22@a   | face, with that$6#2$ odd look of a sheep or a kangaroo, took
306:122,23@a   | on$5$ an extraordinary beauty of its own, a glow as if it
306:122,24@a   | were suffused with light.  And the eyes shone with a queer,
306:122,25@a   | holy light, behind the eyeglasses.  And yet it was still
306:122,26@a   | the kangaroo face.
306:122,27['  ]| Somers watched the face, and dropped his head.  He
306:122,28['  ]| sat feeling rebuked.  
306:122,28@a   | He was so$5#1$ impatient and outrageous
306:122,29@a   | himself.  And the steady loveliness of this man's warm,
306:122,30@a   | wise heart was too much for$4$ him.  He was abashed
306:122,31@a   | before it.
306:122,32[G  ]| "Ah, yes," 
306:122,32['  ]| Kangaroo re-echoed.  
306:122,32[G  ]| "There is a principle
306:122,33[G  ]| of evil.  The principle of resistance.  Malignant resistance
306:122,34[G  ]| to$4$ the life principle.  And it uses the very life-force itself
306:122,35[G  ]| against life, and sometimes seems as if it were absolutely
306:122,36[G  ]| winning.  Not only Jesus rose from the dead.  Judas rose
306:122,37[G  ]| as well, and propagated himself on$4$ the face of the earth.
306:122,38[G  ]| He has many children now.  The life opposers.  The life-resisters.
306:122,39[G  ]| The life-enemies.  But we will$1$ see who$6#1$ wins.
306:122,40[G  ]| We will$1$ see.  In$4$ the name of life, and the love of life, a
306:122,41[G  ]| man is almost invincible.  I have found it so$5#2$."
306:122,42[A  ]| "I believe it also," 
306:122,42['  ]| said Somers.
306:123,01['  ]| They were silent, and Kangaroo sat there with the rapt
306:123,02['  ]| look on$4$ his face: a pondering, eternal look, like$4$ the eternity
306:123,03['  ]| of the lamb of God grown into a sheep.  This rather wicked
306:123,04['  ]| idea came into Somers' mind:  
306:123,04@a   | the lamb of God grown into
306:123,05@a   | a sheep.  So$3$ the man sat there, with his wide-eyed, rapt
306:123,06@a   | face sunk forward to$4$ his breast, very beautiful, and as
306:123,07@a   | eternal as if it were a dream:  so$5#1$ absolute.
306:123,08@a   | A wonderful thing for$4$ a sculptor.  For$3$ Kangaroo was
306:123,09@a   | really ugly:  his pendulous Jewish face, his forward
306:123,10@a   | shoulders, his round stomach in$4$ its expensively tailored
306:123,11@a   | waistcoat and dark grey, striped trousers, his very big
306:123,12@a   | thighs.  
306:123,12['  ]| And yet even  his body had become beautiful, to$4$
306:123,13['  ]| Somers ~~ 
306:123,13@a   | one might love it intensely, every one of its
306:123,14@a   | contours, its roundnesses and downward-drooping heaviness.
306:123,15@a   | Almost a grotesque, like$4$ a Chinese Buddha.  And
306:123,16@a   | yet not a grotesque.  Beautiful, beautiful as some half-tropical,
306:123,17@a   | bulging flower from a tree.
306:123,18['  ]| Then Kangaroo looked with a teasing little smile at
306:123,19['  ]| Somers.
306:123,20[G  ]| "But you have your \own\ idea of power, have not you?"
306:123,21['  ]| he said, getting up$5$ suddenly, with quick power in$4$ his bulk,
306:123,22['  ]| and gripping the other man's shoulder.
306:123,23[A  ]| "I thought I had," 
306:123,23['  ]| said Somers.
306:123,24[G  ]| "Oh, you have, you have."  
306:123,24['  ]| There was a calm, easy
306:123,25['  ]| tone in$4$ the voice, slightly flat, very agreeable.  Somers
306:123,26['  ]| thrilled to$4$ it as he had never thrilled.
306:123,27@a   | "Why, the man is like$4$ a god, I love him," 
306:123,27['  ]| he said to$4$
306:123,28['  ]| his astonished self.  And Kangaroo was hanging forward
306:123,29['  ]| his face and smiling heavily and ambiguously to$4$ himself,
306:123,30['  ]| knowing that$3$ Somers was with him.
306:123,31@z   | " ""Tiger, tiger, burning bright
306:123,32@z   | In$4$ the forests of the night"" "
306:123,33['  ]| he quoted in$4$ a queer, sonorous voice, like$4$ a priest.  
306:123,33[G  ]| "The
306:123,34[G  ]| lion of your might would be a tiger, would not it.  The
306:123,35[G  ]| tiger and the unicorn were fighting for$4$ the crown.  How
306:123,36[G  ]| about me for$4$ a unicorn? ~~ if I tied a bayonet on$4$ my
306:123,37[G  ]| nose?"  
306:123,37['  ]| He rubbed his nose with a heavy playfulness.
306:123,38[A  ]| "Is the tiger your principle of evil?"
306:123,39[G  ]| "The tiger?  Oh dear, no$7$.  The jackal, the hya*ena, and
306:123,40[G  ]| dear, deadly humanity.  No$7$, no$7$.  The tiger stands on$4$ one
306:123,41[G  ]| side the shield, and the unicorn on$4$ the other, and they
306:124,01[G  ]| do not fight for$4$ the crown at all.   They keep it up$5$ between
306:124,02[G  ]| them.  The pillars of the world!  The tiger and the
306:124,03[G  ]| kangaroo!"  
306:124,03['  ]| he boomed this out in$4$ a mock heroic voice,
306:124,04['  ]| strutting with heavy playfulness.  Then he laughed, looking
306:124,05['  ]| winsomely at Somers.  
306:124,05@a   | Heaven, what a beauty he had!
306:124,06[G  ]| "Tiger, tiger, burning bright," 
306:124,06['  ]| he resumed, sing-song,
306:124,07['  ]| abstracted.  
306:124,07[G  ]| "I knew you would come.  Even since I read
306:124,08[G  ]| your first book of poems ~~ how many years is it ago? ~~
306:124,09[G  ]| ten? ~~ eleven? ~~  I knew you would come.
306:124,10@z   | ""Your hands are five-branded flames ~~
306:124,11@z   | \7Noli 7me 7tangere\.""
306:124,12[G  ]| Of course you had to$9$ come."
306:124,13[A  ]| "Well, here I am, anyhow," 
306:124,13['  ]| said Somers.
306:124,14[G  ]| "You are.  You \are\!"  
306:124,14['  ]| shouted the other, and Somers
306:124,15['  ]| was quite scared.  Then Kangaroo laughed again.  
306:124,15[G  ]| "Get
306:124,16[G  ]| up$5$," 
306:124,16['  ]| he said.  
306:124,16[G  ]| "Stand up$5$ and let me look at you."
306:124,17['  ]| The two men stood facing one another:  Kangaroo large,
306:124,18['  ]| with his full stomach and his face hulking down, and his
306:124,19['  ]| queer, glaring eyes; Somers slight and aloof-looking.
306:124,20['  ]| Cooley eyed him up$5$ and down.
306:124,21[G  ]| "A little bit of a fellow ~~ too delicate for$4$ rough me,"
306:124,22['  ]| he said, then started quoting again:  
306:124,23@z   | " ""Your hands are five-branded flames ~~
306:124,24@z   | \7Noli 7me 7tangere\.""
306:124,25[G  ]| I have got fat and bulky on$4$ all the poetry I never wrote.
306:124,26[G  ]| How do you do, Mr*Somers?  How do you like$1$ Australia,
306:124,27[G  ]| and its national animal, the kangaroo?"  
306:124,27['  ]| Again he smiled
306:124,28['  ]| with the sudden glow of warmth in$4$ his dark eyes, startling
306:124,29['  ]| and wonderful.
306:124,30[A  ]| "Australia is a weird country, and its national animal
306:124,31[A  ]| is beyond me," 
306:124,31['  ]| Somers said, smiling rather palely.
306:124,32[G  ]| "Oh no$7$, it is not.  You will$1$ be patting it on$4$ the back as
306:124,33[G  ]| soon as you have taken your hands out of your pockets."
306:124,34['  ]| He stood silent a long while, with feet apart, looking
306:124,35['  ]| abstractedly at Somers through his \9pince-nez\.
306:124,36[G  ]| "Ah, well," 
306:124,36['  ]| he sighed at last.  
306:124,36[G  ]| "We shall see.  We
306:124,37[G  ]| shall see.  But I am very glad you came.  You understand
306:124,38[G  ]| what I mean, I know, when I say we are birds of the same
306:124,39[G  ]| feather.  Are not we"
306:124,40[A  ]| "In$4$ some ways I think we are."
306:125,01[G  ]| "Yes.  In$4$ the feathery line.  When shall I see you
306:125,02[G  ]| again?"
306:125,03[A  ]| "We are going back to$4$ the South*Coast on$4$ Saturday."
306:125,04[G  ]| "Then let me see you to-morrow.  Let me call for$4$ you
306:125,05[G  ]| at your house ~~ and bring you back into town for$4$ dinner
306:125,06[G  ]| in$4$ the evening.  May I do that$6#2$?"
306:125,07[A  ]| "Thank you," 
306:125,07['  ]| said Somers.
306:125,08[G  ]| "What does ""thank you"" mean?  \5Danke\!  No$7$, thank
306:125,09[G  ]| you."
306:125,10[A  ]| "Yes, thank you," 
306:125,10['  ]| said Somers.
306:125,11[G  ]| "Do not thank \me\, man," 
306:125,11['  ]| suddenly shouted the other.
306:125,12[G  ]| "I am the one to$9$ do the thanking."
306:125,13['  ]| Somers felt simple startled amazement at these sudden
306:125,14['  ]| shouts ~~ loud shouts, that$6#1$ you might almost hear in$4$ the
306:125,15['  ]| street.
306:125,16['  ]| At last Jack and Somers left.  Jack had felt it his business
306:125,17['  ]| to$9$ keep quiet:  he knew his chief.  But now he opened
306:125,18['  ]| his mouth.
306:125,19[C  ]| "What do you think of Kangaroo?"  
306:125,19['  ]| he asked.
306:125,20[A  ]| "I am beyond thinking," 
306:125,20['  ]| said Somers.
306:125,21[C  ]| "I know, that$6#2$ is how he leaves you when he makes a
306:125,22[C  ]| set at you.  But he is a rattling fine sort, he is.  He puts
306:125,23[C  ]| a heart into you when your chest is as hollow as an old
306:125,24[C  ]| mustard tim.  He is a wonder, is Kangaroo:  and he keeps
306:125,25[C  ]| on$5$ being a wonder."
306:125,26[A  ]| "Yes, he is certainly a wonder."
306:125,27[C  ]| "My, the brain the man has!  I say, though, talking
306:125,28[C  ]| about tigers and kangaroos reminded me of a thing I once
306:125,29[C  ]| saw.  It was up$5$ in$4$ the North.  I was going along when I
306:125,30[C  ]| heard snarls out of some long buffalo grass that$6#1$ made my
306:125,31[C  ]| hair stand on$4$ end.  I had to$9$ see what it was, though, so$3$
306:125,32[C  ]| into the grass goes I.  And there I saw a full-grown male
306:125,33[C  ]| kangaroo backed up$5$ against a tree, with the flesh of one
306:125,34[C  ]| leg torn clean from the bone.  He was gasping, but he was
306:125,35[C  ]| still fighting.  And the other was a great big cat, we call
306:125,36[C  ]| them tiger-cats, as big as a smallish leopard, a beauty ~~ grey
306:125,37[C  ]| and black stripes, and straighter than a leopard.  And
306:125,38[C  ]| before you could breathe, a streak of black and grey shot
306:125,39[C  ]| at that$6#2$ 'roo's throat, seemed to$9$ twist in$4$ mid air ~~ and the
306:125,40[C  ]| 'roo slipped down to$4$ the ground with his entrails ripped
306:125,41[C  ]| right out.  I was so$5#1$ dumbfounded I took a step in$4$ the
306:125,42[C  ]| grass, and that$6#2$ great hulking cat stopped and lifted his
306:126,01[C  ]| face from his warm food that$6#1$ he had started on$4$ without ever
306:126,02[C  ]| looking up$5$.  He stood over that$6#2$ 'roo for$4$ ten seconds
306:126,03[C  ]| staring me in$4$ the eyes.  Then the skin wrinkled back from
306:126,04[C  ]| his snout, and the fangs were so$5#1$ white and clean as death
306:126,05[C  ]| itself, and a low growl came out of his ugly throat.  
306:126,05@x   | ""Come
306:126,06@x   | on$5$, you swine,"" 
306:126,06[C  ]| it said as plain as words.  I did not you
306:126,07[C  ]| bet.  I backed out of that$6#2$ beastly grass.
306:126,08[C  ]| The next one I saw was a dead one.  And beside him
306:126,09[C  ]| lay the boss' best staghound, that$6#1$ had been trained to$4$
306:126,10[C  ]| tackling wild boards since he was a pup:  dead as well.
306:126,11[C  ]| The cat had come fossicking round our camp on$4$ the
306:126,12[C  ]| Madden*River.
306:126,13[C  ]| My gad, though, but the size of the brute, and muscle
306:126,14[C  ]| like$3$ you could not find in$4$ any other beast.  I looked at the
306:126,15[C  ]| claws on$4$ the pads.  They are as sharp as a lancet, and
306:126,16[C  ]| they would tear the guts out of a man before he could speak.
306:126,17[C  ]| It was good-bye 'roo, that$6#2$ time.
306:126,18[C  ]| They put that$6#2$ yarn in$4$ the \Bulletin\.  And some chap
306:126,19[C  ]| wrote and said 
306:126,19@x   | it was a stiff 'un, and the wild cat must be
306:126,20@x   | descended from escaped tame cats, because this country
306:126,21@x   | has no$2$ pussy aboriginal of any sort.  
306:126,21[C  ]| Could not say myself,
306:126,22[C  ]| except I saw that$6#2$ tiger-cat, and it did not look much like$4$
306:126,23[C  ]| the son of a homely tissey, either.  Wonder what put the
306:126,24[C  ]| thing in$4$ my head.  Perhaps Kangaroo's fat belly."
306:126,25[A  ]| "He is not so$5#1$ very fat," 
306:126,25['  ]| said Somers
306:126,26[C  ]| "No$7$, he is not got what you would call a corporation and a
306:126,27[C  ]| whole urban council in$4$ front of him.  Neither is he flat
306:126,28[C  ]| just there, like$4$ you and me."
306:126,29['  ]| Kangaroo arrived the next day at Torestin with a large
306:126,30['  ]| bunch of violets in$4$ his hand:  pale, expensive, late winter
306:126,31['  ]| violets.  He took off his hat to$4$ Harriet and bowed quite
306:126,32['  ]| deep, without shaking hands.  He had been a student at
306:126,33['  ]| Munich.
306:126,34[B  ]| "Oh, how do you do!"  
306:126,34['  ]| cried Harriet.  
306:126,34[B  ]| "Please do not
306:126,35[B  ]| look at the horrid room, we leave in$4$ the morning."
306:126,36['  ]| Kangaroo looked vacantly around.  He was not interested,
306:126,37['  ]| so$3$ he saw nothing:  he might as well have been
306:126,38['  ]| blind.
306:126,39[G  ]| "It is a very nice room," 
306:126,39['  ]| he said.  
306:126,39[G  ]| "May I give you
306:126,40[G  ]| the violets?  The poet said you liked having them about."
306:126,41['  ]| She took them in$4$ her two hands, smelling their very
306:126,42['  ]| faint fragrance.
306:127,01[G  ]| "They are not like$4$ English violets ~~ or those big dark
306:127,02[G  ]| fellows in$4$ Italy," 
306:127,02['  ]| he said.  
306:127,02[G  ]| "But still we persuade ourselves
306:127,03[G  ]| that$3$ they \are\ violets."
306:127,04[B  ]| "They are lovely.  I feel I could warm my hands over
306:127,05[B  ]| them," 
306:127,05['  ]| she said.
306:127,06[G  ]| "And now they are quite happy violets," 
306:127,06['  ]| he replied,
306:127,07['  ]| smiling his rare, sweet smile at her.  
306:127,07[G  ]| "Why are you
306:127,08[G  ]| taking the poet away from Sydney?"
306:127,09[B  ]| "Lovat?  He wants to$9$ go."
306:127,10[G  ]| "Lovat!  What a good name to$9$ call him by$4$!"  
306:127,10['  ]| He
306:127,11['  ]| turned to$4$ Somers, looking at him closely.  
306:127,11[G  ]| "May I call
306:127,12[G  ]| you Lovat?"
306:127,13[A  ]| "Better that$6#2$ than \the poet\," 
306:127,13['  ]| said Somers, lifting his
306:127,14['  ]| nose slightly with aversion.
306:127,15['  ]| The other man laughed, but softly and happily.
306:127,16[G  ]| "His muse he is not in$4$ love with," 
306:127,16['  ]| he murmured to$4$
306:127,17['  ]| himself.
306:127,18[A  ]| "No$7$, he prefers his own name," 
306:127,18['  ]| said Somers.
306:127,19[G  ]| "But supposing now," 
306:127,19['  ]| said Kangaroo, as if alert and
306:127,20['  ]| interested, 
306:127,20[G  ]| "your name was Cooley:  Benjamin*Cooley ~~
306:127,21[G  ]| Ben, for$4$ short.  You would prefer even Kangaroo to$4$ that$6#2$."
306:127,22[A  ]| "In$4$ Australia the kangaroo is the king of beasts," 
306:127,22['  ]| said
306:127,23['  ]| Somers.
306:127,24[G  ]| "\The kangaroo is the king of beasts\,
306:127,25[G  ]| \Inviting the other ones out to$4$ feasts\,"
306:127,26['  ]| sang the big man, continuing:  
306:127,26[G  ]| "Will$1$ not you both come to$4$
306:127,27[G  ]| dinner with the king of beasts?  Will$1$ not you come too,
306:127,28[G  ]| Mrs*Somers?"
306:127,29[B  ]| "You know you only want Lovat, to$9$ talk your \man's\
306:127,30[B  ]| stuff."
306:127,31[G  ]| "I am not a man, I am a kangaroo.  Besides, yesterday
306:127,32[G  ]| I had not seen you.  If I had known, my dear Somers, that$3$
306:127,33[G  ]| your wife, who$6#1$ is at this moment in$4$ her room hastily
306:127,34[G  ]| changing her dress, was such a beautiful person ~~ I do not
306:127,35[G  ]| say woman merely ~~ I would have invited you for$4$ her sake, and
306:127,36[G  ]| not for$4$ your own."
306:127,37[A  ]| "Then \I\ would not have come," 
306:127,37['  ]| said Somers.
306:127,38[G  ]| "Hear them, what a haughty pair of individuals!  I
306:127,39[G  ]| suppose you expect the king of beasts to$9$ go down on$4$ his
306:127,40[G  ]| knees to$4$ you, like$4$ the rest of democratic kings to$4$ their
306:127,41[G  ]| constituents.  Will$1$ not you get ready, Mrs*Somers?"
306:128,01[B  ]| "You are quite sure you want me to$9$ come?"  
306:128,01['  ]| said
306:128,02['  ]| Harriet suspiciously.
306:128,03[G  ]| "Why, if you will$1$ not come, I shall ask Lovat ~~ dear
306:128,04[G  ]| Lovat, by$4$ the happiest fluke in$4$ the world not Lovelace ~~
306:128,05[G  ]| to$9$ let me stay here to$4$ tea, dinner, or supper ~~ that$6#2$ is, to$4$
306:128,06[G  ]| the next meal, whatever name it may bear."
306:128,07['  ]| At this Harriet disappeared to$9$ put on$5$ a proper dress.
306:128,08[G  ]| "We will$1$ go as soon as you are ready," 
306:128,08['  ]| called
306:128,09['  ]| Kangaroo.  
306:128,09[G  ]| "We can all squeeze into that$6#2$ automobile
306:128,10[G  ]| at your gate."
306:128,11['  ]| When Harriet reappeared the men rose.  Kangaroo
306:128,12['  ]| looked at her with admiration.
306:128,13[G  ]| "What a remarkably beautiful person you are," 
306:128,13['  ]| he said.
306:128,14[G  ]| "But mind, I do not say \woman\.  \8Dio*liberi\!"  
306:128,14['  ]| He
306:128,15['  ]| scuttled hurriedly to$4$ the door.
306:128,16['  ]| They had a gay dinner.  Kangaroo was not really witty.
306:128,17['  ]| But he had such an innocent charm, an extraordinary
306:128,18['  ]| winsomeness, that$6#1$ it was much more delicious than wit.
306:128,19['  ]| His presence was so$5#1$ warm.  You felt you were cuddled
306:128,20['  ]| cosily, like$4$ a child, on$4$ his breast, in$4$ the soft glow of his
306:128,21['  ]| heart, and that$3$ your feet were nestling on$4$ his ample,
306:128,22['  ]| beautiful "tummy."
306:128,23[B  ]| "I wonder you were never married," 
306:128,23['  ]| said Harriet to$4$
306:128,24['  ]| him.
306:128,25[G  ]| "I have been married several times," 
306:128,25['  ]| he replied.
306:128,26[B  ]| "Really!"  
306:128,26['  ]| she cried.
306:128,27[G  ]| "First to$4$ Benny*Cooley ~~ then to$4$ immortal verse ~~ after
306:128,28[G  ]| that$6#2$ to$4$ the law ~~ once to$4$ a haughty lady ~~ and now I am 
306:128,29[G  ]| wedded to$4$ my ideals.  This time it is final.  I do not take
306:128,30[G  ]| another wife."
306:128,31[B  ]| "I do not care about the rest.  But were you ever
306:128,32[B  ]| married, really?"
306:128,33[G  ]| "To$4$ a woman?   A mere woman?  Why, yes indeed.
306:128,34[G  ]| A young Baroness too.  And after seven months she told
306:128,35[G  ]| me she could not stand me for$4$ another minute, and went
306:128,36[G  ]| off with Von*Rumpeldorf."
306:128,37[B  ]| "Is it true?"
306:128,38[G  ]| "Quite true."
306:128,39[B  ]| "And is there still a Mrs*Kangaroo?"
306:128,40[G  ]| "Alas, no$7$!  Like$4$ the unicorn, the family knows no$2$
306:128,41[G  ]| female."
306:128,42[B  ]| "But why could not she stand you?"  
306:128,42['  ]| cried Harriet.
306:129,01[G  ]| "Think of it now.  Could \any\ woman stand me?"  
306:129,01['  ]| he
306:129,02['  ]| asked, with a slight shrug.
306:129,03[B  ]| "I should have thought they would have \adored\ you," 
306:129,03['  ]| she
306:129,04['  ]| cried.
306:129,05[G  ]| "Of course they do.  They can not stand me, though.
306:129,06[G  ]| And I thoroughly sympathise with them."
306:129,07['  ]| Harriet looked at him thoughtfully.
306:129,08[B  ]| "Yes," 
306:129,08['  ]| she said slowly.  
306:129,08[B  ]| "You are too much like$4$
306:129,09[B  ]| Abraham's bosom.  One would feel nowhere."
306:129,10['  ]| Kangaroo threw down his napkin and pushed back his
306:129,11['  ]| chair and roared with laughter ~~ roared and roared with
306:129,12['  ]| laughter.  The Chinese man-servant stood back perturbed.
306:129,13['  ]| Harriet went very red ~~ the dinner waited.  Then suddenly
306:129,14['  ]| he became quiet, looking comically at Harriet, and still
306:129,15['  ]| sitting back from table.  Then he opened his arms and
306:129,16['  ]| held them outstretched, his head on$4$ one side.
306:129,17[G  ]| "The way to$4$ nowhere," 
306:129,17['  ]| he said, ironically.
306:129,18['  ]| She did not say any more, and he turned to$4$ the man-servant.
306:129,19['  ]|
306:129,20[G  ]| "My glass is empty, John," 
306:129,20['  ]| he said.
306:129,21[G  ]| "Ah well," 
306:129,21['  ]| he sighed, 
306:129,21[G  ]| "if you please one woman you
306:129,22[G  ]| can not please all women."
306:129,23[B  ]| "And you must please all women," 
306:129,23['  ]| said Harriet,
306:129,24['  ]| thoughtfully.  
306:129,24[B  ]| "Yes, perhaps you must.  Perhaps it is
306:129,25[B  ]| your mission."
306:129,26[G  ]| "Mission!  Good God!  Now I am a fat missionary.
306:129,27[G  ]| Dear Mrs*Somers, eat my dinner, but do not swallow \me\ in$4$
306:129,28[G  ]| a mouthful.  Eating your host for$4$ 9hors*d'o*evres. You are
306:129,29[G  ]| a dangerous ogre, a Medusa with her hair under her hat.
306:129,30[G  ]| Let us talk of Peach*Melba.  Where have you had the very
306:129,31[G  ]| best Peach*Melba you ever tasted?"
306:129,32['  ]| After this he became quiet, and a little constrained, and
306:129,33['  ]| when they had withdrawn for$4$ coffee, the talk went subduedly,
306:129,34['  ]| with a little difficulty.
306:129,35[G  ]| "I suppose your husband will$1$ have told you, Mrs*Somers,
306:129,36[G  ]| of our heaven-inspired scheme of saving Australia
306:129,37[G  ]| from the thieves, dingoes, rabbits, rats and starlings,
306:129,38[G  ]| humanly speaking?"
306:129,39[B  ]| "No$7$, he has not told me.  He has only told me there was
306:129,40[B  ]| some political business going on$5$."
306:129,41[G  ]| "He may as well put it that$6#2$ way as any other.  And
306:129,42[G  ]| you advised him not to$9$ have anything to$9$ do with it?"
306:130,01[B  ]| "No$7$," 
306:130,01['  ]| said Harriet, 
306:130,01[B  ]| "I let him do as he likes."
306:130,02[G  ]| "Wonderful woman!  Even the wind bloweth where it
306:130,03[G  ]| listeth."
306:130,04[B  ]| "So$5#2$ does he."
306:130,05[G  ]| "With your permission."
306:130,06[B  ]| "The wind has permission too," 
306:130,06['  ]| said Harriet.  
306:130,06[B  ]| "Everything
306:130,07[B  ]| goes by$4$ permission of something else, in$4$ this world."
306:130,08['  ]| But she went rather red.
306:130,09[G  ]| "Bravo, a Daniel come to$4$ judgment!"  
306:130,09['  ]| Then his
306:130,10['  ]| voice changed, became gentle and winning again.  It was
306:130,11['  ]| as if he had remembered to$9$ love her, in$4$ his way of love.
306:130,12[G  ]| "It is not quite a political thing," 
306:130,12['  ]| he said.  
306:130,12[G  ]| "We want to$9$
306:130,13[G  ]| take away the strain, the nervous tension out of life, and
306:130,14[G  ]| let folks be happy again unconsciously, instead of unhappy
306:130,15[G  ]| consciously.  You would not say that$6#2$ was wrong, would
306:130,16[G  ]| you?"
306:130,17[B  ]| "No$7$," 
306:130,17['  ]| she replied, rather unwillingly.
306:130,18[G  ]| "And if I have to$9$ be a fat old Kangaroo with ~~ not an
306:130,19[G  ]| Abraham's bosom, but a pouch to$9$ carry young Australia
306:130,20[G  ]| in$4$ ~~ why ~~ do you really resent it?"
306:130,21['  ]| Harriet laughed, glancing involuntarily at his lowest
306:130,22['  ]| waistcoat button.  
306:130,22@b   | It seemed such a true figure.
306:130,23[B  ]| "Why should I resent it?  It is not my business."
306:130,24[G  ]| "Let it be your business just a little bit.  I want your
306:130,25[G  ]| sympathy."
306:130,26[B  ]| "You mean you want Lovat?"
306:130,27[G  ]| "Poor Lovat.  Richard*Lovat*Somers!  I do indeed
306:130,28[G  ]| want him.  But just as much I want your sympathy."
306:130,29['  ]| Harriet smiled enigmatically.  She was being her most
306:130,30['  ]| annoying.  A look of almost vicious anger came over the
306:130,31['  ]| man's face as he leaned back in$4$ his chair, seeming to$9$ make
306:130,32['  ]| his brows narrower, and a convulsion seemed to$9$ go through
306:130,33['  ]| his belly.  Then he recovered his calm, and seemed to$9$
306:130,34['  ]| forget.  For$4$ a long time he lay silent, with a strange,
306:130,35['  ]| hypnotic stillness, as if he were thinking far away, quite
306:130,36['  ]| far away.  Both Harriet and Somers felt spellbound.
306:130,37['  ]| Then from the distance came his small voice:
306:130,38[G  ]| "Man that$6#1$ is born of woman is sick of himself.  Man
306:130,39[G  ]| that$6#1$ is born of woman is tired of his day after day.  And
306:130,40[G  ]| woman is like$4$ a mother with a tiresome child:  what is she
306:130,41[G  ]| to$9$ do with him?  What is she to$9$ do with him?  ~~ man, that$6#1$
306:130,42[G  ]| is born of woman.
306:131,01[G  ]| But the men that$6#1$ are born like$4$ ants, out of the cold
306:131,02[G  ]| interval, and are womanless, they are not sick of themselves.
306:131,03[G  ]| They are full of cold energy, and they seethe with
306:131,04[G  ]| cold fire in$4$ the ant-hill, making new corridors, new
306:131,05[G  ]| chambers ~~ they alone know what for$4$.  And they have
306:131,06[G  ]| cold, formic-acid females, as restless as themselves, and
306:131,07[G  ]| as active about the ant-hill, and as identical with the dried
306:131,08[G  ]| clay of the building.  And the active, important, so-called
306:131,09[G  ]| females, and the active, cold-blooded, energetic males,
306:131,10[G  ]| they shift twig after twig, and lay crumb of earth upon$4$
306:131,11[G  ]| crumb of earth, and the females deposit cold white eggs
306:131,12[G  ]| of young.  This is the world, and the people of the world.
306:131,13[G  ]| And with their cold, active bodies the ant-men and the
306:131,14[G  ]| ant-women swarm over the face of the earth.
306:131,15[G  ]| And where then are the sons of men?  Where are the
306:131,16[G  ]| sons of men, and man that$6#1$ is born of woman?  Man that$6#1$
306:131,17[G  ]| is born of woman is a slave in$4$ the cold, barren corridors
306:131,18[G  ]| of the ant-hill.  Or if he goes out, the open spaces are but
306:131,19[G  ]| spaces between ant-hill and ant-hill.  And as he goes he
306:131,20[G  ]| hears voices claiming him, saying:  
306:131,20@x   | ""Hello, here comes a
306:131,21@x   | brother ant.""  
306:131,21[G  ]| And they hail him as a brother ant.  And
306:131,22[G  ]| from this there is no$2$ escape.  None.  Not even the lap
306:131,23[G  ]| of woman.
306:131,24[G  ]| But I am a son of man.  I was once a man born of
306:131,25[G  ]| woman.  And by$4$ the warm heart of the mother that$6#1$ bore
306:131,26[G  ]| me, even if fifty wives denied me, I would still go on$5$ fighting
306:131,27[G  ]| with a warm heart to$9$ break down the ant-hill.  I can
306:131,28[G  ]| fight them with their own weapons:  the hard mandibles
306:131,29[G  ]| and the acid sting of the cold ant.  But that$6#2$ is not
306:131,30[G  ]| how I fight them.  I fight them with the warm heart.
306:131,31[G  ]| Deep calls to$4$ deep, and fire calls out fire.  And for$4$
306:131,32[G  ]| warmth, for$4$ the fire of sympathy, to$9$ burn out the ant
306:131,33[G  ]| heap with the heat of fiery, living hearts:  that$6#2$ is what
306:131,34[G  ]| I stand for$4$.
306:131,35[G  ]| And if I can make no$2$ one single woman happy, I will$1$
306:131,36[G  ]| make none unhappy either.  But if I can let out the real
306:131,37[G  ]| fire of happiness from the heart and bowels of man that$6#1$ is
306:131,38[G  ]| born of woman and woman that$6#1$ is born of man."  
306:131,38['  ]| Then
306:131,39['  ]| suddenly he broke off:  
306:131,39[G  ]| "And whether I can or not, I \love\
306:131,40[G  ]| them," 
306:131,40['  ]| he shouted, in$4$ a voice suddenly become loud and
306:131,41['  ]| passionate.  
306:131,41[G  ]| "I love them.  I \love\ you, you woman born
306:131,42[G  ]| of man, I do, and I defy you to$9$ prevent me.  Fiery you
306:132,01[G  ]| are, and fiery am I, and fire should be friends with fire.
306:132,02[G  ]| And when you make me angry, with your jealousy and
306:132,03[G  ]| mistrust like$4$ the ants, I remember, I remind myself:
306:132,04@g   | ""But see the beauty of the fire in$4$ her!  And think how
306:132,05@g   | the ants have tortured her and filled her with fear and with
306:132,06@g   | horror!""  
306:132,06[G  ]| And then the rage goes down again, and I know
306:132,07[G  ]| I love you, and I know that$3$ fire loves fire, and that$3$ therefore
306:132,08[G  ]| you love me.  And I chalk up$5$ another mark against
306:132,09[G  ]| the ants, who$6#1$ have tortured you with their cold energy
306:132,10[G  ]| and their conscious formic-acid that$6#1$ stings like$4$ fire.  And
306:132,11[G  ]| I love you because you have suffered from them as I have.
306:132,12[G  ]| And I love you because you and your husband cherish
306:132,13[G  ]| the fire between you, sacred, apart from the ants.  \9A*bas*les*fourmis\.
306:132,14[G  ]|
306:132,15[G  ]| I have been like$4$ a man buried up$5$ into his neck in$4$ an
306:132,16[G  ]| ant-heap:  so$5#1$ buried in$4$ the daily world, and stung and
306:132,17[G  ]| stung and stung again, because I would not change and grow
306:132,18[G  ]| cold, till now their poison is innocuous, and the formic
306:132,19[G  ]| acid of social man has no$2$ effect on$4$ me.  And I have kept my
306:132,20[G  ]| warmth.  And I will$1$ keep it, till I give it up$5$ to$4$ the
306:132,21[G  ]| unknown, out of my poor fat body.  And it is my banner,
306:132,22[G  ]| and my wife and my children and my God ~~ just the flicker
306:132,23[G  ]| that$6#1$ is in$4$ my heart like$4$ a fire, and that$6#1$ I live by$4$.  I \can not\
306:132,24[G  ]| speculate about God.  I can not do it.  It seems to$4$ me a
306:132,25[G  ]| cold, antish trick.  But the fire that$6#1$ is in$4$ my heart is God,
306:132,26[G  ]| and I will$1$ not forswear it, no$7$, not if you offer me all the
306:132,27[G  ]| world.  And fire is full of seeds ~~ full of seeds ~~ and let
306:132,28[G  ]| them scatter.  I will$1$ not cherish it on$4$ a domestic hearth.
306:132,29[G  ]| I say I will$1$ not.  So$3$ do not bring that$6#2$ up$5$ against me.  I
306:132,30[G  ]| will$1$ not cherish it on$4$ the domestic hearth.  I will$1$ use it
306:132,31[G  ]| against the ants, while they swarm over everything.  And
306:132,32[G  ]| I will$1$ call fire to$4$ my fire, and set the ant-heap at last in$4$ a
306:132,33[G  ]| blaze.  Like$4$ kerosene poured in$5$.  It shall be so$5#2$.  It shall
306:132,34[G  ]| be so$5#2$.  Do not oppose me.  Believe the flame in$4$ your heart,
306:132,35[G  ]| once and for$4$ all, and do not oppose me.  Believe the flame
306:132,36[G  ]| of your own heart, and be with me.  Remember I am with
306:132,37[G  ]| you against the ants.  Remember that$6#2$.  And if I am 
306:132,38[G  ]| Abraham's bosom ~~ is not it better than no$2$ bosom, in$4$ a
306:132,39[G  ]| world that$6#1$ simmers with busy ants?  And would you leave
306:132,40[G  ]| every young, warm, naked thing on$4$ the ground for$4$ the
306:132,41[G  ]| ants to$9$ find.  Would you?"
306:132,42['  ]| He looked at her searchingly.  She was pale, and moved,
306:133,01['  ]| but hostile.  He swung round in$4$ his chair, swinging his
306:133,02['  ]| heavy hips over and lying sideways.
306:133,03[G  ]| "Shall I tell you a thing a man told me.  He had it
306:133,04[G  ]| from the lady's own lips.  It was when the Prince*of*Wales
306:133,05[G  ]| was in$4$ India just now.  There had been a show ~~
306:133,06[G  ]| and then a dinner given by$4$ the governor of the town ~~ some
306:133,07[G  ]| capital or other.  The Prince sat next to$4$ the governor's
306:133,08[G  ]| lady, and he was glum, silent, tortured by$4$ them all a bit
306:133,09[G  ]| beyond bearance.  And the governor's lady felt she ought
306:133,10[G  ]| to$9$ make conversation, ought to$9$ say something to$4$ the poor
306:133,11[G  ]| devil, just for$4$ the show's sake and the occasion.  So$3$ she
306:133,12[G  ]| \could not\ think what to$9$ tell him that$6#1$ would interest him.
306:133,13[G  ]| Then she had a brilliant idea.  
306:133,13@v   | ""Do you know what
306:133,14@v   | happened to$4$ me last week?"" 
306:133,14[G  ]| she said.  
306:133,14@v   | ""You have seen my
306:133,15@v   | adorable little Pekinese, Chu?  She had puppies ~~ four
306:133,16@v   | darling queer little things ~~ tiny little creepy-crawlies.  Of
306:133,17@v   | course we loved them.  But in$4$ the night I thought I heard
306:133,18@v   | them crying ~~ I was not sure.  But at last I went down.
306:133,19@v   | And what do you think!  There was a swarm of white
306:133,20@v   | ants, and they were just eating up$5$ the last bits of them.
306:133,21@v   | Was not it awful?""  
306:133,21[G  ]| The Prince went white as death.  And
306:133,22[G  ]| just then an ant happened to$9$ come on$4$ the tablecloth.  He
306:133,23[G  ]| took his glass and banged it over it, and never spoke
306:133,24[G  ]| another word all evening.  Now that$3$ story was told by$4$
306:133,25[G  ]| the woman herself.  And this was what she did to$4$ a poor
306:133,26[G  ]| nerve-racked lad she was supposed to$9$ honour.  Now I ask
306:133,27[G  ]| you, where was the living heart in$4$ her?  She was an ant,
306:133,28[G  ]| a white ant too."
306:133,29['  ]| He rolled over in$4$ his chair, bitterly, with massive bitterness,
306:133,30['  ]| turning his back on$4$ Harriet.  She sat with a pale,
306:133,31['  ]| blenched face, and tears in$4$ her eyes.
306:133,32[B  ]| "How cruel!"  
306:133,32['  ]| she said.  
306:133,32[B  ]| "But she must have been a
306:133,33[B  ]| fool."
306:133,34[G  ]| "Vile!  Vile!  No$2$ fool!  Quite brilliant ant-tactics.
306:133,35[G  ]| There was warmth in$4$ the lad's heart, and she was out to$9$
306:133,36[G  ]| do \her\ bit of the quenching.  Oh, she gave him her nip
306:133,37[G  ]| and sting.  Ants, social ants.  Social creatures!  Cold ~~
306:133,38[G  ]| I am as cold as they are when it comes to$4$ them.  And as
306:133,39[G  ]| cunning, and \quite\ as vicious.   But that$6#2$ is not what I care
306:133,40[G  ]| for$4$.  I want to$9$ collect together all the fire in$4$ all the burning
306:133,41[G  ]| hearts in$4$ Australia:  that$6#2$ is what I want.  Collect the
306:133,42[G  ]| heart-fire, and the fire will$1$ be our fire.  That$6#2$ is what I do
306:134,01[G  ]| want; apart from all antics and ant-tricks.  
306:134,01@z   | ""\We have\
306:134,02@z   | \lighted such a fire this day, Master*Latimer\.""  
306:134,02[G  ]| Yes, and
306:134,03[G  ]| we will$1$ light another.  You \need not\ be with me if you do not
306:134,04[G  ]| want to$9$ ~~ if you are frightened of losing your monopoly over
306:134,05[G  ]| your precious husband.  Take him home then ~~ take him
306:134,06[G  ]| home."
306:134,07['  ]| And he rolled his back on$4$ her more than ever, finishing
306:134,08['  ]| in$4$ a sudden gust of anger and weariness.  He lay there
306:134,09['  ]| rolled in$4$ his chair, a big, queer, heaving figure, with his
306:134,10['  ]| face almost buried in$4$ the soft leather, and his big hips
306:134,11['  ]| sticking out.  Her face was quivering, wanting to$9$ cry.
306:134,12['  ]| Then suddenly she broke into a laugh, saying rather
306:134,13['  ]| shakily, venomously:
306:134,14[B  ]| "Well, anyhow, you need not turn the wrong end of you
306:134,15[B  ]| at me quite so$5#1$ undisguisedly."
306:134,16[G  ]| "How do you know it \is\ the wrong end of me?"  
306:134,16['  ]| he
306:134,17['  ]| said, sitting up$5$ suddenly and letting his head hang,
306:134,18['  ]| scowling.
306:134,19[B  ]| "\9Facon*de*parler\," 
306:134,19['  ]| she said, laughing rather stiffly.
306:134,20['  ]| Somers was silent, and kept silent till the end.  He was
306:134,21['  ]| thankful that$3$ Kangaroo was fighting the battle this time.
306:134,22['  ]| Their host sent them home in$4$ his motor-car.  Neither of
306:134,23['  ]| them had anything to$9$ say.  Then, as Harriet shut the
306:134,24['  ]| door of Torestin, and they were quite alone, she said:
306:134,25[B  ]| "Yes, he is right.  I absolutely believe in$4$ him.  I do not
306:134,26[B  ]| care \what\ he does with you."
306:134,27[A  ]| "I do, though," 
306:134,27['  ]| said Somers.
306:134,28['  ]| The next day they went to$4$ Mullumbimby.  And the
306:134,29['  ]| day after that$6#2$, each of them wrote a letter to$4$ Kangaroo.
306:134,30[B  ]| "Dear Kaiser*Kangaroo," 
306:134,30['  ]| began Harriet, 
306:134,30[B  ]| "I must
306:134,31[B  ]| thank you very much for$4$ the dinner and the violets, which$6#1$
306:134,32[B  ]| are still quite fresh and blue in$4$ Coo-ee.  I think you were
306:134,33[B  ]| very horrid to$4$ me, but also very nice, so$3$ I hope you do not
306:134,34[B  ]| think the worst of me.  I want to$9$ tell you that$3$ I \do\
306:134,35[B  ]| sympathise, and that$3$ I am awfully glad if I can be of any
306:134,36[B  ]| use to$4$ you in$4$ any way.  I have a holy terror of ants since
306:134,37[B  ]| I heard you, but I know what you mean by$4$ the fire.  Lovat
306:134,38[B  ]| will$1$ hand over my portion when he comes to$9$ see you.
306:134,39[B  ]| But I shall make myself into a Fire*Brigade, because I am
306:134,40[B  ]| sure you will$1$ be kindling fires all over everywhere, under
306:134,41[B  ]| the table and in$4$ the clothes-cupboard, and I, poor domestic
306:134,42[B  ]| wretch, shall have to$9$ be rushing to$9$ put them out.  Being
306:135,01[B  ]| only a poor domestic female, I really do not feel safe with
306:135,02[B  ]| fires anywhere except in$4$ fire-places and in$4$ grates with
306:135,03[B  ]| hearths.  But I do want you to$9$ know you have my
306:135,04[B  ]| sympathy ~~ and my Lovat."  
306:135,04['  ]| She then signed herself
306:135,05['  ]| Harriet*Somers, and felt even more fluttered than when
306:135,06['  ]| she had signed the marriage register.
306:135,07['  ]| She received for$4$ answer:
306:135,08[G  ]| "Dear Mrs*Somers:  I am much honoured and very
306:135,09[G  ]| grateful for$4$ the assurance of your sympathy.  I have put
306:135,10[G  ]| a one-and-sixpenny government stamp under your signature,
306:135,11[G  ]| to$9$ make your letter a legal document, and have
306:135,12[G  ]| further forged the signatures of two witnesses to$4$ your
306:135,13[G  ]| deed of gift of Lovat, so$3$ I am afraid there is no$2$ court of
306:135,14[G  ]| law in$4$ New*South*Wales in$4$ which$6#1$ you could now substantiate
306:135,15[G  ]| a further claim over him.  I am sorry to$9$ take
306:135,16[G  ]| this mean advantage over you, but we lawyers know no$2$
306:135,17[G  ]| scruples.
306:135,18[G  ]| I should be more than delighted if I could  have the
306:135,19[G  ]| honour of entertaining once more in$4$ Sydney ~~ say next
306:135,20[G  ]| Thursday ~~ a beautiful person and remarkable woman (one
306:135,21[G  ]| and the same individual) who$6#1$ tells me to$4$ my nose that$3$ I
306:135,22[G  ]| am a Jew and that$3$ my name, instead of Benjamin, should
306:135,23[G  ]| be Abraham.  Do please come again and call me
306:135,24[G  ]| Abraham's Bosom, but do not fail to$9$ bring your husband,
306:135,25[G  ]| for$4$ the simple look of the thing."
306:135,26[A  ]| "The Kangaroo is a fighting beast, I believe," 
306:135,26['  ]| said
306:135,27['  ]| Somers, looking at Harriet and laughing.  He was not
306:135,28['  ]| sorry when for$4$ once some other person gave her a dig.
306:135,29[B  ]| "I think he is rather foolish," 
306:135,29['  ]| she said briefly.
306:135,30['  ]| These days Somers, too, was filled with fury.  As for$4$
306:135,31['  ]| loving mankind, or having a fire of love in$4$ his heart, it was
306:135,32['  ]| all rot.  He felt almost fierily cold.  He liked the sea, the
306:135,33['  ]| pale sea of green glass that$6#1$ fell in$4$ such cold foam.  Ice-fiery,
306:135,34['  ]| fish-burning.  He went out on$5$ to$4$ the low flat rocks
306:135,35['  ]| at low tide, skirting the deep pock-holes that$6#1$ were full of
306:135,36['  ]| brilliantly clear water and delicately-coloured shells and
306:135,37['  ]| tiny, crimson anemones.  Strangely sea-scooped sharp sea-bitter
306:135,38['  ]| rock-floor, all wet and sea-savage.  And standing at
306:135,39['  ]| the edge looking at the waves rather terrifying rolling at
306:135,40['  ]| him, where he stood low and exposed, far out from the
306:135,41['  ]| sand-banks, and as he watched the gannets gleaming white,
306:135,42['  ]| then falling with a splash like$4$ white sky-arrows into the
306:136,01['  ]| waves, he wished as he had never wished before that$3$ he
306:136,02['  ]| could be cold, as sea-things are cold, and murderously
306:136,03['  ]| fierce.  
306:136,03@a   | To$9$ have oneself exultantly ice-cold, not one spark
306:136,04@a   | of this wretched warm flesh left, and to$9$ have all the terrific,
306:136,05@a   | icy energy of a fish.  To$9$ surge with that$6#2$ cold exultance and
306:136,06@a   | passion of a sea thing!  Now he understood the yearning
306:136,07@a   | in$4$ the seal-woman's croon, as she went back to$4$ the sea,
306:136,08@a   | leaving her husband and her children of warm flesh.  No$2$
306:136,09@a   | more cloying warmth.  No$2$ more of this horrible stuffy heat
306:136,10@a   | of human beings.  To$9$ be an isolated swift fish in$4$ the big
306:136,11@a   | seas, that$6#1$ are bigger than the earth; fierce with cold, cold
306:136,12@a   | life, in$4$ the watery twilight before sympathy was created to$9$
306:136,13@a   | clog us.
306:136,14['  ]| These were his feelings now.  
306:136,14@a   | Mankind?  Ha, he turned
306:136,15@a   | his face to$4$ the centre of the seas, away from any land.
306:136,16@a   | The noise of waters, and dumbness like$4$ a fish.  The cold,
306:136,17@a   | lovely silence, before crying and calling were invented.
306:136,18['  ]| His tongue felt heavy in$4$ his mouth, as if it had relapsed
306:136,19['  ]| away from speech altogether.
306:136,20['  ]| He did not care a straw what Kangaroo said or felt, or
306:136,21['  ]| what anybody said or felt, even himself.  He had no$2$
306:136,22['  ]| feelings, and speech had gone out of him.  He wanted to$9$ be
306:136,23['  ]| cold, cold, and alone like$4$ a single fish, with no$2$ feeling in$4$
306:136,24['  ]| his heart at all except a certain icy exultance and wild,
306:136,25['  ]| fish-like rapacity.  
306:136,25@a   | "7Homo*sum!"  All right.  Who$6#2$ sets
306:136,26@a   | a limit to$4$ what a man is?  Man is also a fierce and fish-cold
306:136,27@a   | devil, in$4$ his hour, filled with cold fury of desire to$9$ get away
306:136,28@a   | from the cloy of human life altogether, not into death, but
306:136,29@a   | into that$6#2$ icily self-sufficient vigour of a fish.
307:137,00@@@@@|
307:137,01['  ]| As a rule the jetty on$4$ its poles straddling a little way into
307:137,02['  ]| the sea was as deserted as if it were some relic left by$4$ an
307:137,03['  ]| old invader.  Then it had spurts of activity, when steamer
307:137,04['  ]| after steamer came blorting and hanging miserably round,
307:137,05['  ]| like$4$ cows to$4$ the cowshed on$4$ a winter afternoon.  Then a
307:137,06['  ]| little engine would chuff along the pier, shoving a string
307:137,07['  ]| of tip-up trucks, and little men would saunter across the
307:137,08['  ]| sky-line, and there would be a fine dimness of black dust
307:137,09['  ]| round the low, red ship and the end of the jetty.  Luckily
307:137,10['  ]| it was far enough away, so$3$ that$3$ Harriet need not fear for$4$
307:137,11['  ]| her beautiful white washing.  She washed her linen herself
307:137,12['  ]| for$4$ the sheer joy of it, and loved nothing so$5#1$ much as thinking
307:137,13['  ]| of it getting whiter and whiter, like$4$ the Spenserian
307:137,14['  ]| maid, in$4$ the sun and sea, and visiting it on$4$ the grass every
307:137,15['  ]| five minutes, and finding it every time really whiter, till
307:137,16['  ]| Somers said 
307:137,16@a   | it would reach a point of whiteness where the
307:137,17@a   | colours would break up$5$, and she would go out and find pieces
307:137,18@a   | of rainbow on$4$ the grass and bushes, instead of towels and
307:137,19@a   | shirts.
307:137,20[B  ]| "Should not I be startled?"  
307:137,20['  ]| she said, accepting it as
307:137,21['  ]| quite a possible contingency, and adding thoughtfully:
307:137,22[B  ]| "No$7$, not really."
307:137,23['  ]| One of these afternoons when Somers was walking down
307:137,24['  ]| on$4$ the sands, looking at the different shells, their sea-colours
307:137,25['  ]| of pink and brown and rainbow and brilliant
307:137,26['  ]| violet and shrimp-red, and when the boats were loading
307:137,27['  ]| coal on$4$ the moderately quiet sea, he noticed the little
307:137,28['  ]| engine standing steaming on$4$ the jetty, just overhead
307:137,29['  ]| where he was going to$9$ pass under.  Then his attention
307:137,30['  ]| was drawn away to$4$ the men picking up$5$ the rounded,
307:137,31['  ]| sea-smooth pebbles of coal in$4$ one little place where
307:137,32['  ]| the beach was just a black slope of perfectly clean
307:137,33['  ]| coal-pebbles:  just like$4$ any other pebbles.  There were
307:137,34['  ]| usually some men, or women or children, picking here,
307:137,35['  ]| putting the bigger pebbles of sea-coal into sacks.  From
307:137,36['  ]| the edge of the small waves Somers heard one man
307:137,37['  ]| talking to$4$ another, and the English tones ~~ unconsciously
307:137,38['  ]| he expected a foreign language ~~ and particularly the
307:138,01['  ]| peculiar educated-artisan quality, almost a kind of uppishness
307:138,02['  ]| that$6#1$ there is in$4$ the speech of Australian working men,
307:138,03['  ]| struck him as incongruous with their picking up$5$ the coal-cobs
307:138,04['  ]| from the shore.  He watched them, in$4$ the chill of the
307:138,05['  ]| shadow.  
307:138,05@a   | Yes, they thought as much of themselves as anybody.
307:138,06@a   | But one was palpably a Welshman, and loved
307:138,07@a   | picking up$5$ something for$4$ nothing; and the other mixed his
307:138,08@a   | democratic uppishness with a queer lousy quality, like$4$ a
307:138,09@a   | bushranger.  
307:138,09[A  ]| "They are ten times more foreign to$4$ me,"
307:138,10['  ]| said Somers, 
307:138,10[A  ]| "than Italian scoundrels, or even Indians.
307:138,11[A  ]| They are so$5#1$ \foreign\ to$4$ me.  And yet their manner of life,
307:138,12[A  ]| their ordinary way of living is almost exactly what I was
307:138,13[A  ]| used to$4$ as a boy.  Why are they so$5#1$ foreign to$4$ me?"
307:138,14['  ]| They silently objected to$4$ his looking, so$3$ he went on$5$.
307:138,15['  ]| He had come to$4$ the huge, high timbers of the tall jetty.
307:138,16['  ]| There stood the little engine still overhead:  and in$4$ the
307:138,17['  ]| gloom among the timbers underneath water was dripping
307:138,18['  ]| down from her, which$6#1$ gave Somers a distaste for$4$ passing
307:138,19['  ]| just then.  He looked up$5$.  There was the engine-driver
307:138,20['  ]| in$4$ his dirty shirt and dirty bare arms, talking to$4$ another
307:138,21['  ]| man.  The other man saluted ~~ and to$4$ Somers' surprise it
307:138,22['  ]| was William*James.  He stood quite still, and a surprised
307:138,23['  ]| smile of recognition greeted the other man, who$6#1$
307:138,24['  ]| saluted.
307:138,25[A  ]| "Why, what are you doing here?"  
307:138,25['  ]| called Somers.
307:138,26['  ]| William*James came to$4$ the edge of the jetty, but could
307:138,27['  ]| not hear, because of the noise of the sea.  His face had
307:138,28['  ]| that$6#2$ small, subtle smile that$6#1$ was characteristic of him, and
307:138,29['  ]| which$6#1$ Somers was never quite sure of, whether it was
307:138,30['  ]| really jeering or in$4$ a cunning way friendly.
307:138,31[E  ]| "Will$1$ not you come up$5$ a minute?"  
307:138,31['  ]| roared William*James.
307:138,32['  ]|
307:138,33['  ]| So$3$ Somers scrambled round up$4$ the banks, on$5$ to$4$ the
307:138,34['  ]| railway track.
307:138,35[E  ]| "I could not come down for$4$ the moment," 
307:138,35['  ]| said William*James.
307:138,36[E  ]| "I will$1$ have to$9$ see the manager, then I am going off
307:138,37[E  ]| on$4$ this boat.  We are ready to$9$ go.  You heard her
307:138,38[E  ]| blowing."
307:138,39[A  ]| "Where are you going?  Back to$4$ Sydney?"
307:138,40[E  ]| "Yes.  I come down occasionally on$4$ this coal-business,
307:138,41[E  ]| and if I like$1$ I go back on$4$ the collier.  The sea is quiet,
307:138,42[E  ]| and I need not wait for$4$ a train.  Well, and how are you
307:139,01[E  ]| gettin' on$5$, like$5$?  Pleased with it down here all by$4$ yourselves?"
307:139,02[E  ]|
307:139,03[A  ]| "Very."
307:139,04[E  ]| "A bit lonely for$4$ you.  I suppose you would not like$1$ to$9$
307:139,05[E  ]| know the manager here ~~ Mr*Thomas?  He is a decent
307:139,06[E  ]| chap ~~ from South*Wales originally."
307:139,07[A  ]| "No$7$.  I like$1$ it best when I do not know anybody."
307:139,08[E  ]| "That$6#2$ is a compliment for$4$ some of us.  However ~~ I
307:139,09[E  ]| know what you mean.  I know what you mean.  Jack tells
307:139,10[E  ]| me you saw Kangaroo.  Made quite a fuss of you:  all
307:139,11[E  ]| he wanted to$9$ know, anyhow.  I say, if ye think of
307:139,12[E  ]| stoppin' down here, you might get in$5$ a ton of coal.  It
307:139,13[E  ]| looks as if this strike might come off.  That$6#2$ Arbitration*Board is
307:139,14[E  ]| a fine failure, what?"
307:139,15[A  ]| "As far as I gather."
307:139,16[E  ]| "Oh, bound to$9$ be.  Bound to$9$ be.  They talk about
307:139,17[E  ]| scraps of paper, why, every agreement that$6#1$ has ever come to$4$
307:139,18[E  ]| in$4$ this country, you could wrap your next red herring in$4$
307:139,19[E  ]| it, for$4$ all it is worth."
307:139,20[A  ]| "I suppose it is like$4$ Ireland, they do not want to$9$ agree."
307:139,21[E  ]| "That$6#2$ is about it.  The Labour people want this revolution
307:139,22[E  ]| of theirs.  What?" ~~ 
307:139,22['  ]| and he looked at Somers with a
307:139,23['  ]| long, smiling, sardonic leer, like$4$ a wink.  
307:139,23[E  ]| "There is a
307:139,24[E  ]| certain fact," 
307:139,24['  ]| he continued, 
307:139,24[E  ]| "as far as any electioneering
307:139,25[E  ]| success goes, they are out of the running for$4$ a spell.  What
307:139,26[E  ]| do you think of Trades*Unions, one way and another?"
307:139,27[A  ]| "I dislike them on$4$ the whole rather intensely.  They are
307:139,28[A  ]| just the nastiest profiteering side of the working man ~~
307:139,29[A  ]| they make a fool of him too, in$4$ my opinion."
307:139,30[E  ]| "Just my opinion.  They make a fool of him.  Would not
307:139,31[E  ]| it be nice to$9$ have them for$4$ bosses of the whole country?
307:139,32[E  ]| They very nearly are.  But I doubt very much if they will$1$
307:139,33[E  ]| ever cover the last lap ~~ what?"
307:139,34[A  ]| "Not if Kangaroo can help it," 
307:139,34['  ]| said Somers.
307:139,35[E  ]| "No$7$!"  
307:139,35['  ]| William*James flashed a quick look at him
307:139,36['  ]| from his queer grey eyes.  
307:139,36[E  ]| "What did you make of him
307:139,37[E  ]| then?  Could you make him out?"
307:139,38[A  ]| "Not quite.  I never met anyone like$4$ him.  The wonder
307:139,39[A  ]| to$4$ me is, he seems to$9$ have as much spare time for$4$ entertaining
307:139,40[A  ]| and amusing his guests, as if he had no$2$ work at all
307:139,41[A  ]| on$4$ hand."
307:140,01[E  ]| "Oh, that$6#2$ was just a special occasion.  But he is a funny
307:140,02[E  ]| sort of Saviour, is not he?  Not much crown of thorns
307:140,03[E  ]| about him.  Why, he would look funny on$4$ a cross, what?"
307:140,04[A  ]| "He has no$2$ intention of being put on$4$ one, I think," 
307:140,04['  ]| said
307:140,05['  ]| Somers stiffly.
307:140,06[E  ]| "Oh, I do not know.  If the wrong party got hold of
307:140,07[E  ]| him.  There is many mites in$4$ a pound of cheese, they
307:140,08[E  ]| say."
307:140,09[A  ]| "Then I will$1$ toast my cheese."
307:140,10[E  ]| "Ha-ha!  Oh yes, I like$1$ a bit of toasted cheese myself
307:140,11[E  ]| ~~ or a Welsh rabbit, as well as any man."
307:140,12[A  ]| "But you do not think they would ever let him down, do you?
307:140,13[A  ]| ~~ these Australians?"
307:140,14[E  ]| "No-o," 
307:140,14['  ]| said William*James.  
307:140,14[E  ]| "I doubt if they would ever
307:140,15[E  ]| let him down.  But if he happened to$9$ \fall\ down, you
307:140,16[E  ]| know, they would soon forget him."
307:140,17[A  ]| "You do not sound a very warm follower yourself."
307:140,18[E  ]| "Oh, warm is not my way, in$4$ anything.  I like$1$ to$9$ see
307:140,19[E  ]| what I am about.  I can see that$3$ Kangaroo is a wonder.
307:140,20[E  ]| Oh yes, he is a world wonder.  And I would rather be in$5$ with
307:140,21[E  ]| him than anybody, if it was only for$4$ the sake of the spree,
307:140,22[E  ]| you know.  Bound to$9$ be a spree some time ~~ and bedfore
307:140,23[E  ]| long, I should say, things going as they are.  I would not
307:140,24[E  ]| like$1$ to$9$ be left out of the fun."
307:140,25[A  ]| "But you do not feel any strong devotion to$4$ your
307:140,26[A  ]| leader?"
307:140,27[E  ]| "Why, no$7$; I will$1$ not say it is exactly strong devotion.
307:140,28[E  ]| But I think he is a world wonder.  He is not quite the
307:140,29[E  ]| \shape\ of a man that$6#1$ I should throw away my eyes for$4$,
307:140,30[E  ]| that$6#2$ is all I mean."  
307:140,30['  ]| Again William*James looked at
307:140,31['  ]| Somers with that$6#2$ long, perhaps mocking little smile in$4$ his
307:140,32['  ]| grey eyes.
307:140,33[A  ]| "I thought even his shape beautiful, when he talked to$4$
307:140,34[A  ]| me."
307:140,35[E  ]| "Oh yes, it is wonderful what a spell he can cast over
307:140,36[E  ]| you.  But I am a stuggy fellow myself, maybe that$6#2$ is how
307:140,37[E  ]| it is I can not ever quite see him in$4$ the same light as the
307:140,38[E  ]| thin chaps do.  But that$6#2$ is just the looks of the thing.  I
307:140,39[E  ]| can see there is not another man in$4$ the world like$4$ him, and
307:140,40[E  ]| I would cross the seas to$9$ join in$5$ with him, if only for$4$ the fun
307:140,41[E  ]| of the thing."
307:140,42[A  ]| "But what about the end of the fun?"  
307:140,42['  ]| asked Somers.
307:141,01[E  ]| "Oh, that$6#2$ I do not know.  And nobody does, for$4$ that$6#2$
307:141,02[E  ]| matter."
307:141,03[A  ]| "But surely if one believes ~~ "
307:141,04[E  ]| "One believes a lot, and one believes very little, seems
307:141,05[E  ]| to$4$ me.  Taking all in$4$ all, seems to$4$ me we live from hand to$4$
307:141,06[E  ]| mouth, as far as beliefs go."
307:141,07[A  ]| "You never \would\ believe," 
307:141,07['  ]| said Somers, laughing.
307:141,08[E  ]| "Not till I was made to$9$," 
307:141,08['  ]| replied Jaz, twisting his face
307:141,09['  ]| in$4$ his enigmatic smile.
307:141,10['  ]| Somers looked at the thick, stocky, silent figure in$4$ the
307:141,11['  ]| well-made dark clothes that$6#1$ did not in$4$ the least belong to$4$
307:141,12['  ]| him. 
307:141,12@a   | There was something about him like$4$ a prisoner in$4$
307:141,13@a   | prison uniform, in$4$ his town clothes ~~ and something of that$6#2$
307:141,14@a   | in$4$ his bearing.  A stocky, silent, unconquerable prisoner.
307:141,15@a   | And in$4$ his imprisoned soul another kind of mystery,
307:141,16@a   | another sort of appeal.
307:141,17['  ]| The two men stood still in$4$ the cold wind that$6#1$ came up$4$ the
307:141,18['  ]| sands to$4$ the south-west.  To$4$ the left, as they faced the
307:141,19['  ]| wind, went the black railway track on$4$ the pier, and the
307:141,20['  ]| small engine stood dribbling.  On$4$ the right the track ran
307:141,21['  ]| curiously black past a big field where the stubble of maize
307:141,22['  ]| or beans stood ragged and sere, on$5$ into the little hollow
307:141,23['  ]| of bush, where the mine was, beyond the stagnant creek.
307:141,24['  ]| It was curious how intensely black, velvety and unnatural,
307:141,25['  ]| the railway-track looked on$4$ this numb coast-front.  The
307:141,26['  ]| steamer hooted again.
307:141,27[A  ]| "Cold it is up$4$ here," 
307:141,27['  ]| said Somers.
307:141,28[E  ]| "It is cold.  He is coming now, though," 
307:141,28['  ]| replied
307:141,29['  ]| William*James.
307:141,30['  ]| They stood together still another minute, looking down
307:141,31['  ]| the pale sands at the foam and the dark-blue sea, the sere
307:141,32['  ]| grass scattered with bungalows.
307:141,33['  ]| It was a strange, different bond of sympathy united
307:141,34['  ]| them, from that$6#2$ that$6#1$ subsisted between Somers and Jack,
307:141,35['  ]| or Somers and Kangaroo.  Hardly sympathy at all, but
307:141,36['  ]| an ancient sort of root-knowledge.
307:141,37[A  ]| "Well, good-bye," 
307:141,37['  ]| said Somers, wanting to$9$ be gone
307:141,38['  ]| before the manager came up$5$ with the papers.  He shook
307:141,39['  ]| hands with William*James ~~ but as usual, Jaz gave him a
307:141,40['  ]| slack hand.  Their eyes met ~~ and the look, something like$4$
307:141,41['  ]| a taunt, in$4$ Trewhella's secretive grey eye, made Somers
307:142,01['  ]| stiffen his back, and a kind of haughtiness flew into his
307:142,02['  ]| soul.
307:142,03[A  ]| "Different men, different ways, Mr*Trewhella," 
307:142,03['  ]| he said.
307:142,04['  ]| William*James did not answer, but smiled rather stubbornly.
307:142,05['  ]| It seemed to$4$ Somers the man would be smiling
307:142,06['  ]| that$6#2$ stubborn, taunting smile till the crack of doom.
307:142,07[E  ]| "I told Mrs*Somers what I think about it," 
307:142,07['  ]| said Jaz,
307:142,08['  ]| with a very Cornish accent.  
307:142,08[E  ]| "I doubt if she will$1$ ever do
307:142,09[E  ]| much more believin' than I shall."  
307:142,09['  ]| And the taunt was
307:142,10['  ]| forked this time.
307:142,11[A  ]| "She says she believes entirely in$4$ Kangaroo."
307:142,12[E  ]| "Does she now?  Who$6#2$ did she tell it to$4$?"
307:142,13[A  ]| "Me."
307:142,14['  ]| Trewhella still stood with that$6#2$ faint grin on$4$ his face,
307:142,15['  ]| short and stocky and erect like$4$ a little post left standing.
307:142,16['  ]| Somers looked at him again, frowning, and turned abruptly
307:142,17['  ]| down the bank.  The smile left the face of the Cornishman,
307:142,18['  ]| and he just looked obstinate, indifferent, and curiously
307:142,19['  ]| alone, as if he stood there all alone in$4$ the world.  He
307:142,20['  ]| watched Somers emerge on$4$ the sands below, and go walking
307:142,21['  ]| slowly among the sea-ragged flat shelves of the coast-bed
307:142,22['  ]| rocks, his head dropping, looking in$4$ the pools, his hands in$4$
307:142,23['  ]| his pockets.  And the obstinate light never changed in$4$ the
307:142,24['  ]| eyes of the watcher, not even when he turned to$4$ the
307:142,25['  ]| approaching manager.
307:142,26['  ]| Perhaps it was this meeting which$6#1$ made Somers want to$9$
307:142,27['  ]| see Kangaroo once more.  Everything had suddenly
307:142,28['  ]| become unreal to$4$ him.  He went to$4$ Sydney and to$4$ Cooley's
307:142,29['  ]| rooms.  But during the first half hour, the revulsion from
307:142,30['  ]| the First persisted.  Somers disliked his appearance, and
307:142,31['  ]| the kangaroo look made him feel devilish.  And then the
307:142,32['  ]| queer, slow manner of approach.  Kangaroo was not really
307:142,33['  ]| ready for$4$ his visitor, and he seemed dense, heavy, absent,
307:142,34['  ]| clownish.  It was that$6#2$ kangarooish clownishness that$6#1$ made
307:142,35['  ]| a vicious kind of hate spring into Somers' face.  He talked
307:142,36['  ]| in$4$ a hard, cutting voice.
307:142,37[A  ]| "Whom can you depend on$4$, in$4$ this world," 
307:142,37['  ]| he was
307:142,38['  ]| saying.  
307:142,38[A  ]| "Look at these Australians ~~ they are awfully
307:142,39[A  ]| nice, but they have got no$2$ inside to$4$ them.  They are hollow.
307:142,40[A  ]| How are you going to$9$ built on$4$ such hollow stalks.  They
307:142,41[A  ]| may well call them corn-stalks.  They are marvellous and
307:142,42[A  ]| manly and independent and all that$6#2$, outside.  But inside,
307:143,01[A  ]| they are not.  When they are \quite\ alone, they do not
307:143,02[A  ]| exist."
307:143,03[G  ]| "Yet many of them have been alone a long time, in$4$ the
307:143,04[G  ]| bush," 
307:143,04['  ]| said Kangaroo, watching his visitor with slow,
307:143,05['  ]| dumb, unchanging eyes.
307:143,06[A  ]| "Alone, what sort of alone.  Physically alone.  And
307:143,07[A  ]| they have just gone hollow.  They are never alone in$4$ spirit:
307:143,08[A  ]| quite, quite alone in$4$ spirit.  And the people who$6#1$ have are
307:143,09[A  ]| the only people you can depend on$4$."
307:143,10[G  ]| "Where shall I find them?"
307:143,11[A  ]| "Not here.  It seems to$4$ me, least of all here.  The
307:143,12[A  ]| Colonies make for$4$ \outwardness\.  Everything is outward ~~
307:143,13[A  ]| like$4$ hollow stalks of corn.  The life makes this inevitable:
307:143,14[A  ]| all that$6#2$ struggle with bush and water and what-not, all the
307:143,15[A  ]| mad struggle with the material necessities and conveniences ~~
307:143,16[A  ]| the inside soul just withers and goes into the outside,
307:143,17[A  ]| and they are all just lusty robust hollow stalks of
307:143,18[A  ]| people."
307:143,19[G  ]| "The corn-stalks bear the corn.  I find them generous
307:143,20[G  ]| to$4$ recklessness ~~ the greatest quality.  The old world is
307:143,21[G  ]| cautious and forever bargaining about its soul.  Here they
307:143,22[G  ]| do not bother to$9$ bargain."
307:143,23[A  ]| "They have no$2$ soul to$9$ bargain about.  But they are even
307:143,24[A  ]| more full of conceit.  What do you expect to$9$ do with
307:143,25[A  ]| such people.  Build a straw castle?"
307:143,26[G  ]| "You see I believe in$4$ them ~~ perhaps I know them a
307:143,27[G  ]| little better than you do."
307:143,28[A  ]| "Perhaps you do.  It will$1$ be cornstalk castle, for$4$ all that$6#2$.
307:143,29[A  ]| What \do\ you expect to$9$ build on$4$?"
307:143,30[G  ]| "They are generous ~~ generous to$4$ recklessness," 
307:143,30['  ]| shouted
307:143,31['  ]| Kangaroo.  
307:143,31[G  ]| "And I love them.  I love them.  Do not you
307:143,32[G  ]| come her carping to$4$ me about them.  They are my
307:143,33[G  ]| children, I love them.  If I am not to$9$ believe in$4$ their
307:143,34[G  ]| generosity, am I to$9$ believe in$4$ your cautious, old-world
307:143,35[G  ]| carping, do you think.  I \will$1$ not\!"  
307:143,35['  ]| he shouted fiercely.
307:143,36[G  ]| "I \will$1$ not\.  Do you hear that$6#2$!"  
307:143,36['  ]| And he sat hulked in$4$
307:143,37['  ]| his chair glowering like$4$ some queer dark god at bay.
307:143,38['  ]| Somers paused, and his heart failed.
307:143,39[A  ]| "Then make me believe in$4$ them and their generosity,"
307:143,40['  ]| he said dryly.  
307:143,40[A  ]| "They are nice.  But they have not got the
307:143,41[A  ]| last everlasting central bit of soul, solitary soul, that$6#1$ makes
307:143,42[A  ]| a man himself.  The central bit of himself.  They all merge
307:144,01[A  ]| to$4$ the outside, away from the centre.  And what can you
307:144,02[A  ]| do, \permanently\, with such people?  You can have a fine
307:144,03[A  ]| corn-stalk blaze.  But as for$4$ anything permanent ~~ "
307:144,04[G  ]| "I tell you I \hate\ permanency," 
307:144,04['  ]| barked Kangaroo.
307:144,05[G  ]| "The pho*enix rises out of the ashes."  
307:144,05['  ]| He rolled over
307:144,06['  ]| angrily in$4$ his chair.
307:144,07[A  ]| "Let her!  Like$4$ Rider*Haggard's \She\, I do not feel like$4$
307:144,08[A  ]| risking it a second time," 
307:144,08['  ]| said Somers, like$3$ the venomous
307:144,09['  ]| serpent he was.
307:144,10[G  ]| "Generous, generous men!"  
307:144,10['  ]| Kangaroo muttered to$4$
307:144,11['  ]| himself.  
307:144,11[G  ]| "At least you can get a blaze out of them.  Not
307:144,12[G  ]| like$4$ European wet matches, that$6#1$ will$1$ never again strike
307:144,13[G  ]| alight ~~ as you have said yourself."
307:144,14[A  ]| "But a blaze for$4$ what?  What is your blaze for$4$?"
307:144,15[G  ]| "I do not care," 
307:144,15['  ]| yelled Kangaroo, springing with sudden
307:144,16['  ]| magnificent swiftness to$4$ his feet, and facing Somers, and
307:144,17['  ]| seizing him by$4$ the shoulders and shaking him till his head
307:144,18['  ]| nearly fell of, yelling all the time:  
307:144,18[G  ]| "I do not care, I tell
307:144,19[G  ]| you, I do not care.  Where there is fire there is change.
307:144,20[G  ]| And where the fire is love, there is creation.  Seeds of fire.
307:144,21[G  ]| That$6#2$ is enough for$4$ me!  Fire, and seeds of fire, and love.
307:144,22[G  ]| That$6#2$ is all I care about.  Do not carp at me, I tell you.
307:144,23[G  ]| Do not carp at me with your old, European, damp spirit.
307:144,24[G  ]| If you can not take the fire, \we can\.  That$6#2$ is all.  Generous,
307:144,25[G  ]| passionate men ~~ and you dare to$9$ carp at them.  You.
307:144,26[G  ]| What have you to$9$ show?"  
307:144,26['  ]| And he went back to$4$ his
307:144,27['  ]| chair like$4$ a great, sulky bear-god.
307:144,28['  ]| Somers sat rather stupefied than convinced.  But he
307:144,29['  ]| found himself again \wanting\ to$9$ be convinced, wanting to$9$
307:144,30['  ]| be carried away.  The desire hankered in$4$ his heart.
307:144,31@a   | Kangaroo had become again beautiful:  huge and beautiful
307:144,32@a   | like$4$ some god that$6#1$ sways and seems clumsy, then suddenly
307:144,33@a   | flashes with all the agility of thunder and lightning.
307:144,34@a   | Huge and beautiful as he sat hulked in$4$ his chair.  
307:144,34['  ]| Somers
307:144,35['  ]| \did\ wish he would get up$5$ again and carry him quite away.
307:144,36@a   | But where to$4$?  Where to$4$?  Where is one carried to$4$
307:144,37@a   | when one is carried away?  He had a bitter mistrust of
307:144,38@a   | seventh heavens and all heavens in$4$ general.  But then the
307:144,39@a   | experience.  
307:144,39['  ]| If Kangaroo had got up$5$ at that$6#2$ moment
307:144,40['  ]| Somers would have given him heart and soul and body,
307:144,41['  ]| for$4$ the asking, and damn all consequences.  He longed to$9$
307:144,42['  ]| do it.  He knew that$3$ by$4$ just going over and laying a hand
307:145,01['  ]| on$4$ the great figure of the sullen god he could achieve it.
307:145,02['  ]| Kangaroo would leap like$4$ a thunder-cloud and catch him
307:145,03['  ]| up$5$ ~~ catch him up$5$ and away into a transport.  A transport
307:145,04['  ]| that$6#1$ should last for$4$ life.  He knew it.
307:145,05['  ]| But alas, it was just too late.  In$4$ some strange way
307:145,06['  ]| Somers felt he had come to$4$ the end of transports:  they had
307:145,07['  ]| no$2$ more mystery for$4$ him; at least this kind:  or perhaps
307:145,08['  ]| no$2$ more charm.  Some bubble or other had burst in$4$ his
307:145,09['  ]| heart.  All his body and fibres wanted to$9$ go over and touch
307:145,10['  ]| the other great being into a storm of response.  But his
307:145,11['  ]| soul would not.  The coloured bubble had burst.
307:145,12['  ]| Kangaroo sat up$5$ and adjusted his eyeglasses.
307:145,13[G  ]| "Do not you run away with the idea, though," 
307:145,13['  ]| he said,
307:145,14[G  ]| "that$3$ I am just an emotional fool."  
307:145,14['  ]| His voice was almost
307:145,15['  ]| menacing, and with a strange cold, intellectual quality
307:145,16['  ]| that$6#1$ Somers had never heard before.
307:145,17[G  ]| "I believe in$4$ the one fire of love.  I believe it is the one
307:145,18[G  ]| inspiration of all creative activity.  I trust myself entirely
307:145,19[G  ]| to$4$ the fire of love.  This I do with my reason also.  I
307:145,20[G  ]| do not discard my reason.  I use it at the service of love,
307:145,21[G  ]| like$4$ a sharp weapon.  I try to$9$ keep it very sharp ~~ and
307:145,22[G  ]| very dangerous.  Where I do not love, I use only my will$0$
307:145,23[G  ]| and my wits.  Where I love, I trust to$4$ love alone."  
307:145,23['  ]| The
307:145,24['  ]| voice came cold and static.
307:145,25['  ]| Somers sat rather blank.  The change frightened him
307:145,26['  ]| almost as something obscene.  This was the reverse to$4$ the
307:145,27['  ]| passionate thunder-god.
307:145,28[A  ]| "But is love the only inspiration of creative activity?"
307:145,29['  ]| he asked, rather feebly.
307:145,30[G  ]| "This is the first time I have heard it questioned.  do
307:145,31[G  ]| you know of any other?"
307:145,32['  ]| Somers thought he did, but he was not going to$9$ give himself
307:145,33['  ]| away to$4$ that$6#2$ sharp weapon of a voice, so$3$ he did not
307:145,34['  ]| answer.
307:145,35[G  ]| "\Is\ there any other inspirational force than the force
307:145,36[G  ]| of love?"  
307:145,36['  ]| continued Kangaroo.  
307:145,36[G  ]| "There is no$2$ other.
307:145,37[G  ]| Loves makes the trees flower and shed their seed, love makes
307:145,38[G  ]| the animals mate and birds put on$5$ their best feather, and
307:145,39[G  ]| sing their best songs.  And all that$6#1$ man has ever created on$4$
307:145,40[G  ]| the face of the earth, or ever will$1$ create ~~ if you will$1$ allow
307:145,41[G  ]| me the use of the word create, with regard to$4$ man's highest
307:145,42[G  ]| productive activities."
307:146,01[A  ]| "It is the word I always use myself," 
307:146,01['  ]| said Somers.
307:146,02[G  ]| "Naturally, since you know how to$9$ think inspiredly.
307:146,03[G  ]| Well then, all that$6#1$ man ever has created or ever will$1$ create,
307:146,04[G  ]| while he remains man, has been created in$4$ the inspiration
307:146,05[G  ]| and by$4$ the force of love.  And not only man ~~ all the living
307:146,06[G  ]| creatures are swayed to$4$ creation, to$4$ new creation, to$4$ the
307:146,07[G  ]| creation of song and beauty and lovely gesture, by$4$ love.
307:146,08[G  ]| I will$1$ go further.  I believe the sun's attraction for$4$ the
307:146,09[G  ]| earth is a form of love."
307:146,10[A  ]| "Then why does not the earth fly into the sun?"  
307:146,10['  ]| said
307:146,11['  ]| Somers.
307:146,12[G  ]| "For$4$ the same reason.  Love is mutual.  Each attracts
307:146,13[G  ]| the other.  But in$4$ natural love each tries at the same time
307:146,14[G  ]| to$9$ withhold the other, to$9$ keep the other true to$4$ its own
307:146,15[G  ]| beloved nature.  To$4$ any true lover, it would be the greatest
307:146,16[G  ]| disaster if the beloved broke down from her own nature
307:146,17[G  ]| and self and began to$9$ identify herself with him, with his
307:146,18[G  ]| nature and self.  I say, to$4$ any genuine lover this is the
307:146,19[G  ]| greatest disaster, and he tries by$4$ every means in$4$ his power
307:146,20[G  ]| to$9$ prevent this.  The earth and sun, on$4$ their plane, have
307:146,21[G  ]| discovered a perfect equilibrium.  But man has not yet
307:146,22[G  ]| begun.  His lesson is so$5#1$ much harder.  His consciousness
307:146,23[G  ]| is at once so$5#1$ complicated and so$5#1$ cruelly limited.  This is
307:146,24[G  ]| the lesson before us.  Man has loved the beloved for$4$ the
307:146,25[G  ]| sake of love, so$5#1$ far, but rarely, rarely has he \consciously\
307:146,26[G  ]| known that$3$ he could only love her for$4$ her own separate,
307:146,27[G  ]| strange self:  forever strange and a joyful mystery to$4$ him.
307:146,28[G  ]| Lovers henceforth have got to$9$ \know\ one another.  A
307:146,29[G  ]| terrible mistake, and a self delusion.  True lovers only
307:146,30[G  ]| learn that$3$ as they know less, and less, and less of each other,
307:146,31[G  ]| the mystery of each grows more startling to$4$ the other.
307:146,32[G  ]| The tangible unknown:  that$6#2$ is the magic, the mystery,
307:146,33[G  ]| and the grandeur of love, that$3$ it puts the tangible unknown
307:146,34[G  ]| in$4$ our arms, and against our breast:  the beloved.  We
307:146,35[G  ]| have made a fatal mistake.  we have got to$9$ know so$5#1$ much
307:146,36[G  ]| \about\ things, that$3$ we think we know the actuality, and
307:146,37[G  ]| contain it.  The sun is as much outside us, and as eternally
307:146,38[G  ]| unknown, as ever it was.  And the same with each man's
307:146,39[G  ]| beloved:  like$4$ the sun.  What do the facts we know \about\
307:146,40[G  ]| a man amount to$4$?  Only two things we can know of him,
307:146,41[G  ]| and this by$4$ pure soul-intuition:  we can know if he is true
307:146,42[G  ]| to$4$ the flame of life and love which$6#1$ is inside his heart, or
307:147,01[G  ]| if he is false to$4$ it.  If he is true, he is friend.  If he is
307:147,02[G  ]| wilfully false, and inimical to$4$ the fire of life and love in$4$ his
307:147,03[G  ]| own heart, then he is my enemy as well as his own."
307:147,04['  ]| Somers listened.  He seemed to$9$ see it all and hear it all
307:147,05['  ]| with marvellous clarity.  And he believed that$3$ it was all
307:147,06['  ]| true.
307:147,07[A  ]| "Yes," 
307:147,07['  ]| he said, 
307:147,07[A  ]| "I believe that$3$ is all true."
307:147,08[G  ]| "What is it then that$6#1$ you disbelieve?"
307:147,09[A  ]| "I do not quite believe that$3$ love is the one and only
307:147,10[A  ]| exclusive force or mystery of living inspiration.  I do not
307:147,11[A  ]| quite believe that$6#2$.  There is something else."
307:147,12['  ]| Kangaroo looked at him for$4$ once overbearingly and with
307:147,13['  ]| a sort of contempt.
307:147,14[G  ]| "Tell me what it is," 
307:147,14['  ]| he replied briefly.
307:147,15[A  ]| "I am not very clear myself.  And, you see, what I
307:147,16[A  ]| want to$9$ say, you do not want to$9$ hear."
307:147,17[G  ]| "Yes, I do," 
307:147,17['  ]| snapped Kangaroo.
307:147,18[A  ]| "With your ears and your critical mind only."
307:147,19[G  ]| "Say it, anyhow, say it."
307:147,20['  ]| Richard sat feeling very stupid.  The communicative
307:147,21['  ]| soul is like$4$ the ass, you can lead him to$4$ the water, but you
307:147,22['  ]| can not make him drink.
307:147,23[A  ]| "Why," 
307:147,23['  ]| he said, 
307:147,23[A  ]| "It means an end of us and what we
307:147,24[A  ]| are, in$4$ the first place.  And then a re-entry into us of the
307:147,25[A  ]| great God, who$6#1$ enters us from below, not from above."
307:147,26['  ]| Kangaroo sat bunched up$5$ like$4$ some creature watching
307:147,27['  ]| round-eyed out of a darker corner.
307:147,28[G  ]| "How do you mean, enters us from below?"  
307:147,28['  ]| he barked.
307:147,29[A  ]| "Not through the spirit.  Enters us from the lower self,
307:147,30[A  ]| the dark self, the phallic self, if you like$1$."
307:147,31[G  ]| "Enters us from the phallic self?" 
307:147,31['  ]| snapped Kangaroo
307:147,32['  ]| sharply.
307:147,33[A  ]| "Sacredly.  The god you can never see or visualise,
307:147,34[A  ]| who$6#1$ stands dark on$4$ the threshold of the phallic me."
307:147,35[G  ]| "The phallic you, my dear young friend, what is that$6#2$
307:147,36[G  ]| but love?"
307:147,37['  ]| Richard shook his head in$4$ silence.
307:147,38[A  ]| "No$7$," 
307:147,38['  ]| he said, in$4$ a slow, remote voice.  
307:147,38[A  ]| "I know your
307:147,39[A  ]| love, Kangaroo.  Working everything from the spirit,
307:147,40[A  ]| from the head.  You work the lower self as an instrument
307:147,41[A  ]| of the spirit.  Now it is time for$4$ the spirit to$9$ leave us
307:147,42[A  ]| again; it is time for$4$ the Son of Man to$9$ depart, and leave
307:148,01[A  ]| us dark, in$4$ front of the unspoken God:  who$6#1$ is just beyond
307:148,02[A  ]| the dark threshold of the lower self, my lower self.  There
307:148,03[A  ]| is a great God on$4$ the threshold of my lower self, whom I
307:148,04[A  ]| fear while he is my glory.  And the spirit goes out like$4$ a
307:148,05[A  ]| spent candle."
307:148,06['  ]| Kangaroo watched with a heavy face like$4$ a mask.
307:148,07[G  ]| "It is time for$4$ the spirit to$9$ leave us," 
307:148,07['  ]| he murmured in$4$
307:148,08['  ]| a somnambulist voice.  
307:148,08[G  ]| "Time for$4$ the spirit to$9$ leave us."
307:148,09['  ]| Somers, who$6#1$ had dropped his face, hiding it as he spoke,
307:148,10['  ]| watched the other man from under his brows.  Kangaroo,
307:148,11['  ]| who$6#1$ still sat impassive, like$4$ a frozen, antagonised Buddha,
307:148,12['  ]| gave himself a jerk of recovery.
307:148,13[G  ]| "Ah well!"  
307:148,13['  ]| he sighed, with a weary, impatient, condescending
307:148,14['  ]| sigh.  
307:148,14[G  ]| "I was never able to$9$ follow mysticism
307:148,15[G  ]| and metaphysics.  One of my many limitations.  I do not
307:148,16[G  ]| know what you mean."
307:148,17[A  ]| "But what is your ""love"" but a mystical thing?" 
307:148,17['  ]| asked
307:148,18['  ]| Richard indignantly.
307:148,19[G  ]| "My love?  Why, that$6#2$ is something I \feel\, as plain as
307:148,20[G  ]| toothache."
307:148,21[A  ]| "Well, so$5#2$ do I feel the other:  and love has become like$4$
307:148,22[A  ]| cardboard to$4$ me," 
307:148,22['  ]| said Richard, still indignant.
307:148,23[G  ]| "Like$4$ cardboard?  Well, I do not quite see love like$4$
307:148,24[G  ]| cardboard, dear boy.  For$3$ you \are\ a dear boy, in$4$ spite of
307:148,25[G  ]| yourself.  Oh yes, you are.  There is some demon inside
307:148,26[G  ]| you makes you perverse, and will$1$ not let you be the dear,
307:148,27[G  ]| beautiful thing you are.  But I am going to$9$ exorcise that$6#2$
307:148,28[G  ]| demon."
307:148,29['  ]| Somers gave a short laugh, the very voice of the demon
307:148,30['  ]| speaking.
307:148,31[G  ]| "Oh yes I am," 
307:148,31['  ]| said Kangaroo, in$4$ a steely voice.  
307:148,31[G  ]| "I am
307:148,32[G  ]| going to$9$ exorcise that$6#2$ demon, and release your beautiful
307:148,33[G  ]| Andromeda soul."
307:148,34[A  ]| "Try," 
307:148,34['  ]| ejaculated Richard dryly, turning aside his face
307:148,35['  ]| in$4$ distaste.
307:148,36['  ]| Kangaroo leaped to$4$ his feet and stood towering over the
307:148,37['  ]| little enemy as if he would stoop over him and smother him
307:148,38['  ]| in$4$ violent warmth and drive out the demon in$4$ that$6#2$ way.
307:148,39['  ]| But Richard sat cold and withheld, and Kangaroo had not
307:148,40['  ]| the power to$9$ touch him.
307:148,41[G  ]| "I am going to$9$ try," 
307:148,41['  ]| shouted the lawyer, in$4$ his slightly
307:148,42['  ]| husky roar.  
307:148,42[G  ]| "You have made it my prerogative by$4$ telling
307:149,01[G  ]| me to$9$ try.  I am going to$9$ love you, and you will$1$ not get away
307:149,02[G  ]| from that$6#2$.  I am the hound of heaven after you, my boy,
307:149,03[G  ]| and I am fatal to$4$ the hell hound that$6#1$ is leading you.  Do
307:149,04[G  ]| you know I love you? ~~ that$3$ I loved you long before I
307:149,05[G  ]| met you?"
307:149,06['  ]| Richard, curled narrow in$4$ his chair like$4$ a snake, glanced
307:149,07['  ]| up$5$ at the big man projecting over him.  A sort of magnetic
307:149,08['  ]| effusion seemed to$9$ come out of Kangaroo's body, and
307:149,09['  ]| Richard's hand was almost drawn in$4$ spite of himself to$9$
307:149,10['  ]| touch the other man's body.  He had deliberately to$9$
307:149,11['  ]| refrain from laying his hand on$4$ the near, generous stomach
307:149,12['  ]| of the Kangaroo, because automatically his hand would
307:149,13['  ]| have lifted and sought that$6#2$ rest.  But he prevented himself,
307:149,14['  ]| and the eyes of the two men met.  Kangaroo searched
307:149,15['  ]| Lovat's eyes:  but they seemed to$9$ be of cloudy blue like$4$
307:149,16['  ]| hell-smoke, impenetrable and devilish.  Kangaroo watched
307:149,17['  ]| a long time:  but the other man was the unchangeable.
307:149,18['  ]| Kangaroo turned aside suddenly.
307:149,19[G  ]| "Ah well," 
307:149,19['  ]| he said.  
307:149,19[G  ]| "I can see there is a beast in$4$
307:149,20[G  ]| the way.  There is a beast in$4$ your eyes, Lovat, and if I
307:149,21[G  ]| can not conquer it then ~~ then  woe-betide you, my dear.
307:149,22[G  ]| But I love you, you see."
307:149,23[A  ]| "Sounds like$4$ a threat," 
307:149,23['  ]| laughed Somers.
307:149,24['  ]| Kangaroo leaned and laid his hand gently on$4$ Lovat's
307:149,25['  ]| shoulder.
307:149,26[G  ]| "Do not say that$6#2$"; 
307:149,26['  ]| his voice was small now, and
307:149,27['  ]| very gentle.  
307:149,27[G  ]| "I loved you before I knew you.  My soul
307:149,28[G  ]| cries for$4$ you.  And you hurt me with the demon that$6#1$ is
307:149,29[G  ]| in$4$ you."
307:149,30['  ]| Richard became very pale, and was silent for$4$ some
307:149,31['  ]| moments.  The hand sank heavier, nearer, on$4$ his shoulder.
307:149,32[A  ]| "You see," 
307:149,32['  ]| said Somers, trying hard to$9$ be fair, 
307:149,32[A  ]| "what
307:149,33[A  ]| you call my demon is what I identify myself with.  It is
307:149,34[A  ]| my best me, and I stick to$4$ it.  I think love, all this love
307:149,35[A  ]| of ours, is a devilish thing now:  a slow poison.   Really I
307:149,36[A  ]| know the dark god at the lower threshold ~~ even if I have
307:149,37[A  ]| to$9$ repeat it like$4$ a phrase.  And in$4$ the sacred dark men
307:149,38[A  ]| meet and touch, and it is a great communion.  But it
307:149,39[A  ]| is not this love.  There is no$2$ love in$4$ it.  But something
307:149,40[A  ]| deeper.  Love seems to$4$ me somehow trivial:  and the spirit
307:149,41[A  ]| seems like$4$ something that$6#1$ belongs to$4$ paper.  I can not help
307:149,42[A  ]| it ~~ I know another God."
307:150,01['  ]| The pressure of the hand became inert.
307:150,02[G  ]| "But are not you merely inventing other terms for$4$ the
307:150,03[G  ]| same thing that$6#1$ I mean, and that$6#1$ I call love?"  
307:150,03['  ]| said
307:150,04['  ]| Kangaroo, in$4$ a strange, toneless voice, looking aside.
307:150,05[A  ]| "Does it seem to$4$ you that$3$ I am?"  
307:150,05['  ]| asked Lovat, gently
307:150,06['  ]| and dispassionately.
307:150,07['  ]| The strange, great passionate cloud of Kangaroo still
307:150,08['  ]| hung there, hovering over the pale, sharp isolation of
307:150,09['  ]| Somers, who$6#1$ lay looking up$5$.  And then it seemed as if the
307:150,10['  ]| glow and vibration left Kangaroo's body, the cloud became
307:150,11['  ]| grey and heavy.  He sighed, removed his hand, and turned
307:150,12['  ]| away.
307:150,13[G  ]| "Ah well!"  
307:150,13['  ]| he said  
307:150,13[G  ]| "Ah well!"
307:150,14['  ]| Somers rose, trembling now, and feeling frail.
307:150,15[A  ]| "I will$1$ go," 
307:150,15['  ]| he said.
307:150,16[G  ]| "Yes, do go," 
307:150,16['  ]| said Kangaroo.
307:150,17['  ]| And without another word Somers went, leaving the
307:150,18['  ]| other man sunk in$4$ a great heap in$4$ his chair, as if defeated.
307:150,19['  ]| Somers did not even pity him.  His heart felt queer and
307:150,20['  ]| cave-like and devoid of emotion.
307:150,21['  ]| He was spending the night at the Calcotts.  Harriet,
307:150,22['  ]| too, was there.  But he was in$4$ no$2$ hurry to$9$ get back there.
307:150,23['  ]| It was a clear and very starry night.  He took the tram-car
307:150,24['  ]| away from the centre of the town, then walked.  As
307:150,25['  ]| was always the case with him in$4$ this country, the land
307:150,26['  ]| and the world disappeared as night fell, as if the day had
307:150,27['  ]| been an illusion, and the sky was bending down.  
307:150,27@a   | There
307:150,28@a   | was the Milky*Way, in$4$ clouds of star-fume, bending down
307:150,29@a   | right in$4$ front of him, right down till it seemed as if he
307:150,30@a   | would walk on$5$ to$4$ it, if he kept going.  The pale, fumy drift
307:150,31@a   | of the Milky*Way drooped down and seemed so$5#1$ near,
307:150,32@a   | straight in$4$ front, that$3$ it seemed the obvious road to$9$ take.
307:150,33@a   | And one would avoid the strange dark gaps, gulfs, in$4$ the
307:150,34@a   | way overhead.  And one would look across to$4$ the floating
307:150,35@a   | isles of star-fume, to$4$ the south, across the gulfs where the
307:150,36@a   | sharp stars flashed like$4$ lighthouses, and one would be in$4$
307:150,37@a   | a new way denizen of a new plane, walking by$4$ oneself.
307:150,38@a   | There would be a real new way to$9$ take.  And the
307:150,39@a   | mechanical earth quite obliterated, sunk out.
307:150,40['  ]| Only he saw, on$4$ the sea's high black horizon, the various
307:150,41['  ]| reddish sore-looking lights of a ship.  
307:150,41@a   | There they were ~~
307:150,42@a   | the signs of the ways of men ~~ hot-looking and weary.  
307:150,42['  ]| He
307:151,01['  ]| turned quickly away from the marks of the far-off ship, to$9$
307:151,02['  ]| look again at the downward slope of the great hill of the
307:151,03['  ]| Milky*Way.  He wanted so$5#1$ much to$9$ get out of this lit-up
307:151,04['  ]| cloy of humanity, and the exhaust of love, and the fretfulness
307:151,05['  ]| of desire.  
307:151,05@a   | Why not swing away into cold separation?
307:151,06@a   | Why should desire always be fretting, fretting like$4$ a tugged
307:151,07@a   | chain?  Why not break the bond and be single, take a
307:151,08@a   | fierce stoop and a swing back, as when a gannet plunges
307:151,09@a   | like$4$ a white, metallic arrow into the sea, raising a burst of
307:151,10@a   | spray, disappearing, completing the downward curve of
307:151,11@a   | the parabola in$4$ the invisible underwater where it seized
307:151,12@a   | the object of desire, then away, away with success upwards,
307:151,13@a   | back flashing into the air and white space?   Why not?
307:151,14@a   | Why want to$9$ urge, urge, urge oneself down the causeways
307:151,15@a   | of desirous love, hard pavements of love?  Even like$4$
307:151,16@a   | Kangaroo.  Why should not meeting be a stoop as a gannet
307:151,17@a   | stoops into the sea, or a hawk, or a kite, in$4$ a swift
307:151,18@a   | rapacious parabola downwards, to$9$ touch at the lowermost
307:151,19@a   | turn of the curve, then up$5$ again?
307:151,20@a   | It is a world of slaves:  all love-professing.  Why unite
307:151,21@a   | with them?  Why pander to$4$ them?  Why go with them
307:151,22@a   | at all?  Why not strike at communion out of the unseen,
307:151,23@a   | as the gannet strikes into the unseen underwater, or the
307:151,24@a   | kite from above at a mouse?  One seizure, and away again,
307:151,25@a   | back, away into isolation.  A touch, and away.  Always
307:151,26@a   | back, away into isolation.  Why be cloyed and clogged
307:151,27@a   | down like$4$ billions of fish in$4$ water, or billions of mice on$4$
307:151,28@a   | land?  It is a world of slaves.  Then why not gannets in$4$ 
307:151,29@a   | the upper air, having two worlds?  Why only one element?
307:151,30@a   | If I am to$9$ have a meeting it shall be down, down in$4$ the
307:151,31@a   | invisible, and the moment I re-emerge it shall be alone.
307:151,32@a   | In$4$ the visible world I am alone, an isolate instance.  My
307:151,33@a   | meeting is in$4$ the underworld, the dark.  Beneath every
307:151,34@a   | gannet that$6#1$ jumps from the water ten thousand fish are
307:151,35@a   | swimming still.  But they are swimming in$4$ a shudder of
307:151,36@a   | silver fear.  That$6#2$ is the magic of the ocean.  Let them
307:151,37@a   | shudder the huge ocean aglimmer.
307:151,38['  ]| He arrived at Wyewurk at last, and found a little party.
307:151,39['  ]| William*James was there, and Victoria had made, by$4$
307:151,40['  ]| coincidence, a Welsh rarebit.  The beer was on$4$ the
307:151,41['  ]| table.
307:151,42[C  ]| "Just in$4$ time," 
307:151,42['  ]| said Jack.  
307:151,42[C  ]| "As well you are not half
307:152,01[C  ]| an hour later, or there might 'a been no$2$ booze.  How did
307:152,02[C  ]| you come ~~ tram?"
307:152,03[A  ]| "Yes ~~ and walked part of the way."
307:152,04[B  ]| "What kind of an evening did you have?"  
307:152,04['  ]| said
307:152,05['  ]| Harriet.
307:152,06['  ]| He looked at her.  A chill fell upon$4$ the little gathering,
307:152,07['  ]| from his presence.
307:152,08[A  ]| "We did not agree," 
307:152,08['  ]| he replied.
307:152,09[B  ]| "I knew you would not ~~ not for$4$ long, anyhow," 
307:152,09['  ]| she
307:152,10['  ]| replied.  
307:152,10[B  ]| "I do not see you agreeing and playing second
307:152,11[B  ]| fiddle for$4$ long."
307:152,12[A  ]| "Do you see me as a fiddler at all?"
307:152,13[B  ]| "I have seen you fiddling away hard enough many times,"
307:152,14['  ]| retorted Harriet.  
307:152,14[B  ]| "Why, what else do you do, all your
307:152,15[B  ]| life, but fiddle some tune or other?"
307:152,16['  ]| He did not reply, and there was a pause.  His face was
307:152,17['  ]| pale and very definite, as if it were some curious seashell.
307:152,18[C  ]| "What did you get the wind up$5$ about, between you?"
307:152,19['  ]| said Jack soothingly, pouring Somers a glass of beer.
307:152,20[A  ]| "No$2$ wind.  We are only not the same pair of shoes."
307:152,21[E  ]| "I could have told you that$6#2$ before you went," 
307:152,21['  ]| said
307:152,22['  ]| Jaz with quiet elation at his tones.
307:152,23['  ]| Victoria looked at Somers with dark, bright eyes.  She
307:152,24['  ]| was quite fascinated by$4$ him, as an Australian bird by$4$ some
307:152,25['  ]| adder.
307:152,26[D  ]| "Is not Mr*Somers queer?"  
307:152,26['  ]| she said.  
307:152,26[D  ]| "He does not
307:152,27[D  ]| seem to$9$ mind a bit."
307:152,28['  ]| Somers looked at her quickly, a smile round his eyes,
307:152,29['  ]| and a curious, smiling devil inside them, cold as ice.
307:152,30[B  ]| "Oh yes, he minds.  Do not take any notice of his
307:152,31[B  ]| pretence.  He is only in$4$ a bad temper," 
307:152,31['  ]| cried Harriet.  
307:152,31[B  ]| "I
307:152,32[B  ]| know him by$4$ now.  He has been in$4$ a temper for$4$ days."
307:152,33[D  ]| "Oh, why?"  
307:152,33['  ]| cried Victoria.  
307:152,33[D  ]| "I thought he was lovely
307:152,34[D  ]| this afternoon when he was here."
307:152,35[B  ]| "Yes," 
307:152,35['  ]| said Harriet grimly.  
307:152,35[B  ]| "Lovely!  You should
307:152,36[B  ]| live with him."
307:152,37['  ]| But again Victoria looked at his clear, fixed face, with
307:152,38['  ]| the false smile round the eyes, and her fascination did not
307:152,39['  ]| diminish.
307:152,40[A  ]| "What an excellent Welsh rarebit," 
307:152,40['  ]| he said.  
307:152,40[A  ]| "If there
307:152,41[A  ]| were a little red pepper."
307:152,42[D  ]| "Red pepper!"  
307:152,42['  ]| cried Victoria.  
307:152,42[D  ]| "There is!"  
307:152,42['  ]| And
307:153,01['  ]| she sprang up$5$ to$9$ get it for$4$ him.  As she handed it to$4$ him
307:153,02['  ]| he looked into her dilated, dark bright eyes, and thanked
307:153,03['  ]| her courteously.  When he was in$4$ this state his voice and
307:153,04['  ]| tone in$4$ speaking were very melodious.  Of course it set
307:153,05['  ]| Harriet on$4$ edge.  But Victoria stood fluttering with her
307:153,06['  ]| hands over the table, bewildered.
307:153,07[C  ]| "What are you feeling for$4$?"  
307:153,07['  ]| asked Jack.
307:153,08['  ]| She only gave a little blind laugh, and remembered that$3$
307:153,09['  ]| she was going to$9$ sit down.  So$3$ she sat down, and then
307:153,10['  ]| wondered what it was she was going to$9$ do after that$6#2$.
307:153,11[C  ]| "So$3$ you do not cotton on$5$ to$4$ Kangaroo either?"  
307:153,11['  ]| said
307:153,12['  ]| Jack easily.
307:153,13[A  ]| "I have the greatest admiration for$4$ him."
307:153,14[C  ]| "You are not alone there.  But you do not fall over yourself,
307:153,15[C  ]| loving him."
307:153,16[A  ]| "I only trip, and recover my balance for$4$ the moment."
307:153,17['  ]| Jaz gave a loud laugh, across his cheese.
307:153,18[E  ]| "That$6#2$ is good!"  
307:153,18['  ]| he said.
307:153,19[C  ]| "You trip, and recover your balance," 
307:153,19['  ]| said Jack.
307:153,20[C  ]| "You are a wary one.  The rest of us falls right in$5$, flop,
307:153,21[C  ]| and are never heard of again.  And how did you part
307:153,22[C  ]| then?"
307:153,23[A  ]| "We parted in$4$ mutual esteem.  I said I would go, and
307:153,24[A  ]| he asked me please to$9$ do so$5#2$ as quickly as possible."
307:153,25['  ]| Jack made round eyes, and even Jaz left off eating.
307:153,26[B  ]| "Did you \quarrel?\" 
307:153,26['  ]| cried Harriet.
307:153,27[A  ]| "Oh yes, violently.  But of course, not vulgarly.  We
307:153,28[A  ]| parted, as I said, in$4$ mutual esteem, bowing each other
307:153,29[A  ]| out."
307:153,30[B  ]| "You \are\ awful.  You only went on$4$ purpose to$9$ upset
307:153,31[B  ]| him.  I knew that$6#2$ all along.  Why must you be so$5#1$
307:153,32[B  ]| spiteful?"  
307:153,32['  ]| said Harriet.  
307:153,32[B  ]| "You are never happy unless
307:153,33[B  ]| you are upsetting somebody's apple-cart."
307:153,34[A  ]| "Am I doomed to$9$ agree with everybody, then?"
307:153,35[B  ]| "No$7$.  But you need not \set out\ to$9$ be disagreeable.
307:153,36[B  ]| And to$4$ Mr*Cooley especially, who$6#1$ likes you and is a such
307:153,37[B  ]| warm, big man.  You ought to$9$ be flattered that$3$ he \cares\
307:153,38[B  ]| what you think.  No$7$, you have to$9$ go and try and undermine
307:153,39[B  ]| him.  Ah ~~ why was I ever pestered with such a
307:153,40[B  ]| viperish husband as you!"  
307:153,40['  ]| said Harriet.
307:153,41['  ]| Victoria made alert, frightened eyes.  But Somers sat on$5$
307:153,42['  ]| with the same little smile and courteous bearing.
307:154,01[A  ]| "I am, of course, immensely flattered at his noticing
307:154,02[A  ]| me,"  
307:154,02['  ]| he replied.  
307:154,02[A  ]| "Otherwise, naturally, I should have
307:154,03[A  ]| resented being told to$9$ leave.  As it was I did not resent it
307:154,04[A  ]| a bit."
307:154,05[B  ]| "Did not you!"  
307:154,05['  ]| cried Harriet.  
307:154,05[B  ]| "I know you and your
307:154,06[B  ]| pretences.  That$6#2$ is what has put you in$4$ such a temper."
307:154,07[A  ]| "But you remember I have been in$4$ a temper for$4$ days,"
307:154,08['  ]| he replied calmly and gravely.  
307:154,08[A  ]| "Therefore there could
307:154,09[A  ]| be no$2$ putting."
307:154,10[B  ]| "Oh, it only made you worse.  I am tired of your temper,
307:154,11[B  ]| really."
307:154,12[D  ]| "But Mr*Somers is not in$4$ a temper at all!"  
307:154,12['  ]| cried
307:154,13['  ]| Victoria.  
307:154,13[D  ]| "He is nicer than any of us, really.  Jack would
307:154,14[D  ]| be as angry as anything if I said all those things to$4$ him
307:154,15[D  ]| Should not you, Jack?"  
307:154,15['  ]| And she cuddled his arm.
307:154,16[C  ]| "You would be shut up$5$ in$4$ the coal-shed for$4$ the night before
307:154,17[C  ]| you got half way through with it, if ever you started trying
307:154,18[C  ]| it on$5$," 
307:154,18['  ]| he replied, with marital humour.
307:154,19[D  ]| "No$7$, I should not, either:  or it would be the last door
307:154,20[D  ]| you would shut on$4$ \me\, so$3$ there.  But anyhow you would be in$4$ a
307:154,21[D  ]| waxy old temper."
307:154,22['  ]| And she smiled at Somers as she cuddled her husband's
307:154,23['  ]| arm.
307:154,24[A  ]| "If my hostess says I am nice," 
307:154,24['  ]| said Somers, 
307:154,24[A  ]| "I am not
307:154,25[A  ]| going to$9$ feel guilty, whatever my \wife\ may say."
307:154,26[B  ]| "Oh yes, you do feel guilty," 
307:154,26['  ]| said Harriet.
307:154,27[D  ]| "Your hostess does not find any fault with you at all,"
307:154,28['  ]| cried Victoria.  She was looking very pretty, in$4$ a brown
307:154,29['  ]| chiffon dress.  
307:154,29[D  ]| "She thinks you are the nicest of anybody
307:154,30[D  ]| here, there."
307:154,31[C  ]| "What?"  
307:154,31['  ]| cried Jack.  
307:154,31[C  ]| "When I am here as well?"
307:154,32[D  ]| "Whether you are here or not.  You are not very nice to$4$
307:154,33[D  ]| me to-night, and William*James never is.  But Mr*Somers
307:154,34[D  ]| is \awfully\ nice."  
307:154,34['  ]| She blushed suddenly quite vividly,
307:154,35['  ]| looking under her long lashes at him.  He smiled a little
307:154,36['  ]| more intensely to$4$ himself.
307:154,37[C  ]| "I tell you what, Mrs*Somers," 
307:154,37['  ]| said Jack.  
307:154,37[C  ]| "We had
307:154,38[C  ]| better make a swap of it, till they alter their opinion.  You
307:154,39[C  ]| and me had better strike up$5$ a match, and let them two
307:154,40[C  ]| elope with one another for$4$ a bit."
307:154,41[D  ]| "And what about William*James?"  
307:154,41['  ]| cried Victoria, with
307:154,42['  ]| hurried, vivid excitement.
307:155,01[E  ]| "Oh nobody need trouble themselves about William*James,"
307:155,02['  ]| replied that$6#2$ individual.  
307:155,02[E  ]| "It is about time he
307:155,03[E  ]| was rolling home."
307:155,04[B  ]| "No$7$," 
307:155,04['  ]| said Harriet, in$4$ answer to$4$ Jack.  
307:155,04[B  ]| "I am striking
307:155,05[B  ]| off no$2$ more matches, thank you.  The game is not worth
307:155,06[B  ]| the candle."
307:155,07[C  ]| "Why, maybe you have only struck on$4$ the rough side,
307:155,08[C  ]| you know," 
307:155,08['  ]| said Jack.  
307:155,08[C  ]| "You might strike on$4$ the smooth
307:155,09[C  ]| next time."
307:155,10[B  ]| "No$7$," 
307:155,10['  ]| said Harriet.  
307:155,10[B  ]| "I am going to$4$ bed, and leave
307:155,11[B  ]| you all to$4$ your striking and your bad tempers.  Good-night!"
307:155,12[B  ]|
307:155,13['  ]| She rose roughly.  Victoria jumped up$5$ to$9$ accompany her
307:155,14['  ]| to$4$ her room.  The Somers had had a room each in$4$ Torestin,
307:155,15['  ]| so$3$ Victoria had put them each separately into a nice little
307:155,16['  ]| room in$4$ her house.
307:155,17[C  ]| "Is it right," 
307:155,17['  ]| said Jack, 
307:155,17[C  ]| "that$3$ you got the wind up$5$
307:155,18[C  ]| to-night?"
307:155,19[A  ]| "No$7$," 
307:155,19['  ]| said Somers.  
307:155,19[A  ]| "At least we only quite lovingly
307:155,20[A  ]| agreed to$9$ differ.  Nothing else."
307:155,21[C  ]| "I thought it would be like$4$ that$6#2$," 
307:155,21['  ]| said Jack.  
307:155,21[C  ]| "He
307:155,22[C  ]| thinks the world of you, I can see that$6#2$."
307:155,23['  ]| William*James stood ready to$9$ leave.  He looked at
307:155,24['  ]| Somers cunningly, as if reading him with his light-grey,
307:155,25['  ]| sceptical eyes.
307:155,26[E  ]| "Mr*Somers does not care to$9$ commit himself so$5#1$ easily,"
307:155,27['  ]| he said.
307:155,28[C  ]| "No$7$," 
307:155,28['  ]| said Jack.  
307:155,28[C  ]| "You blighters from the old
307:155,29[C  ]| country are so$5#1$ mighty careful of risking yourselves.  That$6#2$ is
307:155,30[C  ]| what I am not.  When I feel a thing I jump up$5$ and go for$4$
307:155,31[C  ]| it, and damn the consequences.  There is always plenty of
307:155,32[C  ]| time to$9$ think about a thing after you have done it.  And
307:155,33[C  ]| then if you are fool enough to$9$ wish you had not done it,
307:155,34[C  ]| why, that$6#2$ shows you \should not\ have.  I do not go in$5$ for$4$
307:155,35[C  ]| regrets, myself.  I do what I want.  And if I wanted to$9$ do
307:155,36[C  ]| a thing, then it is \all right\ when it is done.  All a man has
307:155,37[C  ]| got to$9$ do is to$9$ keep his mouth shut and his fist ready, and
307:155,38[C  ]| go down on$4$ his knees to$4$ \nothing\.  Then he can damn well
307:155,39[C  ]| do as he pleases.  And all he asks is that$3$ other folks shall
307:155,40[C  ]| do as they please, men or women.  Damn all this careful
307:155,41[C  ]| stunt.  I will$1$ step along as far as the tram with you, Jaz,
307:155,42[C  ]| I feel like$4$ walking the Welsh rarebit down into his burrow.
307:156,01[C  ]| Vicky prefers Mr*Somers to$4$ me \7pro*tem%\ ~~ and I do not
307:156,02[C  ]| begrudge it her.  Why should I?"
307:156,03['  ]| Victoria was putting away the dishes, and seemed not
307:156,04['  ]| to$9$  hear.  The two men went.  Somers still sat in$4$ his chair.
307:156,05['  ]| He was truly in$4$ a devil of a temper, with everybody and
307:156,06['  ]| everything:  a wicked, fiendish mood that$6#1$ made him \look\
307:156,07['  ]| quite handsome, as fate would have it.  He had heard
307:156,08['  ]| Jack's hint.  He knew Victoria was attracted to$4$ him:  that$3$
307:156,09['  ]| she imagined no$2$ nonsense about love, she was too remote
307:156,10['  ]| from the old world, and too momentary for$4$ that$6#2$.  The
307:156,11['  ]| moment ~~ that$6#2$ was all her feelings were to$4$ her.  And at
307:156,12['  ]| this moment she was fascinated, and when she said, in$4$ her
307:156,13['  ]| slightly contralto voice:
307:156,14[D  ]| "You are not in$4$ a temper with \me\, though, are you Mr*Somers?"
307:156,15['  ]| she was so$5#1$ comely, like$4$ a maiden just ready
307:156,16['  ]| for$4$ love, and like$4$ a comely, desirous virgin offering herself
307:156,17['  ]| to$4$ the wayfarer, in$4$ the name of the god of bright desire
307:156,18['  ]| that$3$ Somers stretched out his hand and stroked her hot
307:156,19['  ]| cheek very delicately with the tips of his fingers, replying:
307:156,20[A  ]| "I could never be angry with you.  You are much too
307:156,21[A  ]| winsome."
307:156,22['  ]| She looked at him with her dark eyes dilated into a glow,
307:156,23['  ]| a glow of offering.  He smiled faintly, rising to$4$ his feet,
307:156,24['  ]| and desire in$4$ all his limbs like$4$ a power.  The moment ~~ and
307:156,25['  ]| the power of the moment.  Again he felt his limbs full of
307:156,26['  ]| desire, like$4$ a power.  And his days of anger seemed to$9$
307:156,27['  ]| culminate now in$4$ this moment, like$4$ bitter smouldering that$6#1$
307:156,28['  ]| at last leaps into flame.  Not love ~~ just weapon-like desire.
307:156,29['  ]| He knew it.
307:156,29@a   | The god Bacchus.  Iacchos!  Iacchos!
307:156,30@a   | Bacchanals with weapon hands.  She had the sacred glow
307:156,31@a   | in$4$ her eyes.  Bacchus, the true Bacchus.  Jack would not
307:156,32@a   | begrudge the god.  And the fire was very clean and steely,
307:156,33@a   | after the smoke.  And he felt the velvety fire from her
307:156,34@a   | face in$4$ his finger-tips.
307:156,35['  ]| And still his old stubborn self intervened.  He decided
307:156,36['  ]| almost involuntarily.  Perhaps it was fear.
307:156,37[A  ]| "Good-night," 
307:156,37['  ]| he said to$4$ her.  
307:156,37[A  ]| "Jack will$1$ be back in$4$
307:156,38[A  ]| a moment.  You look bonnie to-night."
307:156,39['  ]| And he went to$4$ his room.  When he has shut the door,
307:156,40['  ]| he wondered if it was merely a sort of cowardice.  
307:156,40@a   | Honour?
307:156,41@a   | No$2$ need as far as Jack was concerned, apparently.  And
307:156,42@a   | Harriet?  She was too honest a female.  She would know
307:157,01@a   | that$3$ the dishonour, as far as she felt it, lay in$4$ the desire,
307:157,02@a   | not in$4$ the act.  For$4$ her, too, honour did not consist in$4$ a
307:157,03@a   | pledged word kept according to$9$ pledge, but in$4$ a genuine
307:157,04@a   | feeling faithfully followed.  He had not to$9$ reckon with
307:157,05@a   | honour here.
307:157,06@a   | What then?  Why not follow the flame, the moment
307:157,07@a   | sacred to$4$ Bacchus?  Why not, if it was the way of life?
307:157,08@a   | He did not know why not.  Perhaps only old moral habit,
307:157,09@a   | or fear, as Jack said, of committing himself.  Perhaps only
307:157,10@a   | that$6#2$.  It was Victoria's high moment; all her high moments
307:157,11@a   | would have this Bacchic, weapon-like momentaneity:  since
307:157,12@a   | Victoria was Victoria.  Why then deny it?
307:157,13@a   | The pagan way, the many gods, the different service, the
307:157,14@a   | sacred moments of Bacchus.  Other sacred moments:
307:157,15@a   | Zeus and Hera, for$4$ examples, Ares and Aphrodite, all the
307:157,16@a   | great moments of the gods.  Why not know them all, all
307:157,17@a   | the great moments of the gods, from the major moment
307:157,18@a   | with Hera to$4$ the swift short moments of Io or Leda or
307:157,19@a   | Ganymede?  Should not a man know the whole range?
307:157,20@a   | And especially the bright, swift, weapon-like Bacchic occasion,
307:157,21@a   | should not any man seize it when it offered?
307:157,22['  ]| But his heart of hearts was stubbornly puritanical.  And
307:157,23['  ]| his innermost soul was dark and sullen, black with a sort
307:157,24['  ]| of scorn.  
307:157,24@a   | These moments bred in$4$ the head and born in$4$
307:157,25@a   | the eye:  he had enough of them.  These flashes of desire
307:157,26@a   | for$4$ a visual object would no$2$ longer carry him into action.
307:157,27@a   | He had no$2$ use for$4$ them.  There was a downslope into
307:157,28@a   | Orcus, and a vast, phallic, sacred darkness, where one was
307:157,29@a   | enveloped into the greater god as in$4$ an Egyptian darkness.
307:157,30@a   | He would meet there or nowhere.  To$4$ the visual travesty
307:157,31@a   | he would lend himself no$2$ more.
307:157,32['  ]| Pondering and turning recklessly he heard Jack come
307:157,33['  ]| back.  Then he began to$9$ doze.  He did not sleep well in$4$
307:157,34['  ]| Australia, it seemed as if the aboriginal daimon entered his
307:157,35['  ]| body as he slept, to$9$ destroy its old constituion.  Sleep
307:157,36['  ]| was almost pain, and too full of dreams.  This night he
307:157,37['  ]| woke almost at once from a vivid little dream.  The fact
307:157,38['  ]| of the soonness troubled him too, for$3$ at home he never
307:157,39['  ]| dreamed till morning.
307:157,40['  ]| But the dream had been just this.  He was standing in$4$
307:157,41['  ]| the living-room at Coo-ee, bending forward doing some
307:157,42['  ]| little thing by$4$ the couch, perhaps folding the newspaper,
307:158,01['  ]| making the room tidy at the last moment before going to$4$
307:158,02['  ]| bed, when suddenly a violent darkness came over him, he
307:158,03['  ]| felt his arms pinned, and he heard a man's voice speaking
307:158,04['  ]| mockingly behind him, with a laugh.  It was as if he saw
307:158,05['  ]| the man's face too ~~ a stranger, a rough, strong sort of
307:158,06['  ]| Australian.  And he realised with horror:  
307:158,06@a   | "Now they
307:158,07@a   | have put a sack over my head, and fastened my arms,
307:158,08@a   | and I am in$4$ the dark, and they are going to$9$ steal my little
307:158,09@a   | brown handbag from the bedroom, which$6#1$ contains all the
307:158,10@a   | money we have."  
307:158,10['  ]| The shock of intense reality made him
307:158,11['  ]| fight his way out of the depths of the first sleep, but it
307:158,12['  ]| was some time before he could really lay hold of facts,
307:158,13['  ]| like$4$:  
307:158,13@a   | "I am not at Coo-ee.  I am not at Mullumbimby.
307:158,14@a   | I am in$4$ Sydney at Wyewurk, and the Callcotts are in$4$ the
307:158,15@a   | next room."  
307:158,15['  ]| So$3$ he came really awake.  But if the thing
307:158,16['  ]| had really happened, it could hardly have happened to$4$ him
307:158,17['  ]| more than in$4$ this dream.
307:158,18['  ]| In$4$ the morning they were returning to$4$ the South*Coast.
307:158,19['  ]| But Jack said to$4$ Somers, a little sarcastically:
307:158,20[C  ]| "You are not altogether pleased with us, then?"
307:158,21['  ]| Somers hesitated before replying:
307:158,22[A  ]| "I am not altogether pleased with myself, am I?"
307:158,23[C  ]| "You do not have to$9$ be so$5#1$ particular, in$4$ this life," 
307:158,23['  ]| said
307:158,24['  ]| Jack.
307:158,25[A  ]| "I may have to$9$ be."
307:158,26[C  ]| "You can not have it all perfect beforehand, you know.
307:158,27[C  ]| You have got to$9$ sink a few times before you can swim."
307:158,28[A  ]| "Sink in$4$ what?"
307:158,29[C  ]| "Why, it seems to$4$ me you want to$9$ have a thing all
307:158,30[C  ]| ready in$4$ your hand, know all about it, before you will$1$ try it.
307:158,31[C  ]| And there is some things you can not do that$6#2$ with.  You have
307:158,32[C  ]| just got to$9$ flop into them, like$4$ when you chuck a dog into
307:158,33[C  ]| water."
307:158,34['  ]| Somers received this rebuke rather sourly.  This was
307:158,35['  ]| the first wintry day they had really had.  There was a
307:158,36['  ]| cold fog in$4$ Sydney in$4$ the morning, and rain in$4$ the fog.
307:158,37['  ]| In$4$ the hills it would be snow ~~ away in$4$ the Blue*Mountains.
307:158,38['  ]| But the fog lifted, and the rain held off, and there was a
307:158,39['  ]| wash of yellowish sunshine.
307:158,40['  ]| Harriet of course had to$9$ talk to$4$ a fellow-passenger in$4$
307:158,41['  ]| the train, because Lovat was his glummest.  It was a red-moustached
307:158,42['  ]| Welshman with a slighty injured look in$4$ his
307:159,01['  ]| pale blue eyes, as if everything had not been as good to$4$ him
307:159,02['  ]| as he thought it ought, considering his merit.  He said 
307:159,02@w   | his
307:159,03@w   | name was Evans, and he kept a store.  He had been sixteen
307:159,04@w   | years in$4$ the country.
307:159,05[B  ]| "And is it \very\ hot in$4$ the summer?"  
307:159,05['  ]| said Harriet.  
307:159,05[B  ]| "I
307:159,06[B  ]| suppose it is."
307:159,07[W  ]| "Yes," 
307:159,07['  ]| he said, 
307:159,07[W  ]| "it is very hot.  I have known the days
307:159,08[W  ]| when I have had to$9$ lie down at two o'clock in$4$ the afternoon,
307:159,09[W  ]| and not been able to$9$ move.  Overpowered, that$6#2$ is what it
307:159,10[W  ]| is, overpowered."
307:159,11['  ]| Harriet was suitably impressed, having tried heat in$4$
307:159,12['  ]| India.
307:159,13[B  ]| "And do you think it takes one long to$9$ get used to$4$ this
307:159,14[B  ]| country?"  
307:159,14['  ]| she asked after a while.
307:159,15[W  ]| "Well, I should say it takes about four or five years
307:159,16[W  ]| for$4$ your blood properly to$9$ thin down.  You can not say
307:159,17[W  ]| you have begun, under two years."
307:159,18[B  ]| "Four or five years!"  
307:159,18['  ]| re-echoed Harriet.  But what
307:159,19['  ]| she was really turning over in$4$ her mind was this phrase:
307:159,20@w   | "For$4$ your blood to$9$ thin down."  
307:159,20@b   | To$9$ thin down!  how
307:159,21@b   | queer!  
307:159,21['  ]| Lovat also heard the sentence, and realised that$3$
307:159,22@a   | his blood took this thinning very badly, and still about
307:159,23@a   | four years of simmering ahead, apparently, if he stayed
307:159,24@a   | in$4$ this country.  And when the blood had finished its
307:159,25@a   | thinning, what then?  
307:159,25['  ]| He looked at Mr*Evans, with the
307:159,26['  ]| sharp pale nose and the reddish hair and the injured look
307:159,27['  ]| in$4$ his pale-blue eyes.  
307:159,27@a   | Mr*Evans seemed to$9$ find it sweet
307:159,28@a   | still to$9$ talk to$4$ people from the "old country."  
307:159,28[W  ]| "You are
307:159,29[W  ]| from the old country?" ~~ 
307:159,29@a   | the inevitable question.  The
307:159,30@a   | thinning down had left him looking as if he felt he lacked
307:159,31@a   | something.  Yet he would not go back to$4$ South*Wales.
307:159,32@a   | Oh no$7$, he would not go back.
307:159,33@x   | "The blood is thinner out here than in$4$ the old country."
307:159,34@a   | The Australians seemed to$9$ accept this as a scientific fact.
307:159,35@a   | Richard felt he did not want his blood thinned down to$4$ the
307:159,36@a   | Australian constituency.  Yet no$2$ doubt in$4$ the night, in$4$
307:159,37@a   | his sleep, the metabolic change was taking place fast and
307:159,38@a   | furious.
307:159,39['  ]| It was raining a little in$4$ the late afternoon when
307:159,40['  ]| Somers and Harriet got back to$4$ Coo-ee.  With infinite
307:159,41['  ]| relief she stepped across her own threshold.
307:159,42[B  ]| "Ah!"  
307:159,42['  ]| she said, taking a long breath.  
307:159,42[B  ]| "Thank God
307:160,01[B  ]| to$9$ be back."  
307:160,01['  ]| She looked round, and went to$9$ rearrange on$4$
307:160,02['  ]| the sofa the cushions that$6#1$ they had whacked so$5#1$ hard to$9$ get
307:160,03['  ]| the dust out.
307:160,04['  ]| Somers went to$4$ the edge of the grass to$9$ be near the sea.
307:160,05['  ]| It was raving a long, rasping lines of hissing breakers ~~ not
307:160,06['  ]| very high ones, but very long.  The sky hung grey, with
307:160,07['  ]| veils of dark rain out to$4$ sea, and in$4$ the south a blackness of
307:160,08['  ]| much rain blowing nearer in$4$ the wind.  At the end of the
307:160,09['  ]| jetty, in$4$ the mist of the sea-wind's spray, a long, heavy
307:160,10['  ]| coal-steamer was slowly toiling to$9$ cast loose and get away.
307:160,11['  ]| The waves were so$5#1$ long and the current so$5#1$ strong, they
307:160,12['  ]| would hardly let her turn and get clear in$4$ the misty-black
307:160,13['  ]| jetty.
307:160,14['  ]| Under the dark-grey sky the sea looked bright, but coldly
307:160,15['  ]| bright, with its yellow-green waves and its rampart of
307:160,16['  ]| white foam.  There were usually three white ramparts,
307:160,17['  ]| one behind the other, of rasping surf:  and sometimes four.
307:160,18['  ]| Then the long swish and surge of the shoreward wash.
307:160,19['  ]| The coast was quite deserted:  the steep sand wet as the
307:160,20['  ]| backwash slid away:  the rocks wet with rain:  the low,
307:160,21['  ]| long black steamer still laboured in$4$ the fume of the wind,
307:160,22['  ]| indistinctly.
307:160,23['  ]| Somers turned indoors, and suddenly began taking off
307:160,24['  ]| his clothes.  In$4$ a minute he was running naked in$4$ the rain
307:160,25['  ]| which$6#1$ fell with lovely freshness on$4$ his skin.  Ah, he felt
307:160,26['  ]| so$5#1$ stuffy after that$6#2$ sort of emotional heat in$4$ town.  Harriet
307:160,27['  ]| in$4$ amazement saw him whitely disappearing over the edge
307:160,28['  ]| of the low cliff-bank, and came to$4$ the edge to$9$ look.
307:160,29['  ]| He ran quickly over the sands, where the wind blew
307:160,30['  ]| cold but velvety, and the raindrops fell loosely.  He walked
307:160,31['  ]| straight into the fore-wash, and fell into an advancing
307:160,32['  ]| ripple.  At least it looked a ripple, but was enough to$9$ roll
307:160,33['  ]| him over so$3$ that$3$ he went under and got a little taste of the
307:160,34['  ]| Pacific.  Ah, the fresh cold wetness! ~~ the fresh cold wetness!
307:160,35['  ]| The water rushed in$4$ the back-wash and the sand
307:160,36['  ]| melted under him, leaving him stranded like$4$ a fish.  He
307:160,37['  ]| turned again to$4$ the water.  The walls of surf were some
307:160,38['  ]| distance off, but near enough to$9$ look rather awful as they
307:160,39['  ]| raced in$4$ high white walls shattering towards him.  And
307:160,40['  ]| above the ridge of the raving whiteness the dimness of the
307:160,41['  ]| labouring steamer, as if it were perched on$4$ a bough.
307:160,42['  ]| Of course he did not go near the surf.  No$7$, the last
307:161,01['  ]| green ripples of the broken swell were enough to$9$ catch him
307:161,02['  ]| by$4$ the scruff of the neck and tumble him rudely up$4$ the
307:161,03['  ]| beach, in$4$ a pell-mell.  But even the blow did one good, as
307:161,04['  ]| the sea struck one heavily on$4$ the back, if one were fleeing;
307:161,05['  ]| full on$4$ the chest, if one were advancing.
307:161,06['  ]| It was raining quite heavily as he walked out, and the
307:161,07['  ]| skies hung low over the sea, dark over the green and white
307:161,08['  ]| vigour of the ocean.  The shore was so$5#1$ foam-white it almost
307:161,09['  ]| suggested sun.  The rain felt almost warm.
307:161,10['  ]| Harriet came walking across the grass with a towel.
307:161,11[B  ]| "What a good idea!"  
307:161,11['  ]| she said.  
307:161,11[B  ]| "If I had known I would
307:161,12[B  ]| have come.  I wish I had."
307:161,13['  ]| But he ignored the towel, and went into the little wash-place
307:161,14['  ]| and under the shower, to$9$ wash off the sticky, strong
307:161,15['  ]| Pacific.  Harriet came along with the towel, and he put
307:161,16['  ]| his hand to$4$ her face and nodded to$4$ her.  She knew what he
307:161,17['  ]| meant, and went wondering, and when he had rubbed the
307:161,18['  ]| wet off himself he came to$4$ her.
307:161,19['  ]| To$4$ the end she was more wondering than anything.
307:161,20['  ]| But when it was the end, and the night was falling outside,
307:161,21['  ]| she laughed and said to$4$ him:
307:161,22[B  ]| "That$6#2$ was done in$4$ style.  That$6#2$ was \9chic\.  Straight
307:161,23[B  ]| from the sea, like$4$ another creature."
307:161,24['  ]| Style and \9chic\ seemed to$4$ him somewhat ill suited to$4$ the
307:161,25['  ]| occasion, but he brought her a bowl of warm water and
307:161,26['  ]| went and made the tea.  The wind was getting noisier,
307:161,27['  ]| and the sea was shut out but still calling outside the house.
307:161,28['  ]| They had tea and toast and quince jam, and one of the
307:161,29['  ]| seven brown teapots with a bit off the spout shone quite
307:161,30['  ]| nicely and brightly at a corner of the little red-and-white
307:161,31['  ]| check tea-cloth, which$6#1$ itself occupied a corner of the big,
307:161,32['  ]| polished jarrah table.  But, thank God, he felt cool and
307:161,33['  ]| fresh and detached, not cosy and domestic.  He was so$5#1$
307:161,34['  ]| thankful not to$9$ be feeling cosy and "homely".  The room
307:161,35['  ]| felt as penetrable to$4$ the outside influence as if it were a sea-shell
307:161,36['  ]| lying on$4$ the beach, cool with the freshness and insistence
307:161,37['  ]| of the sea, not a snug, cosy box to$9$ be secured inside.
307:161,38['  ]| And Jack*Callcott's rebuke stuck in$4$ his throat.  Perhaps
307:161,39['  ]| after all he was just a Pommy, prescribing things with
307:161,40['  ]| overmuch emphasis, and wanting to$9$ feel God-Almighty in$4$
307:161,41['  ]| the face of unborn events.  A Pommy is a newcomer in$4$
307:161,42['  ]| Australia, from the Old*Country.
307:162,01[X  ]| Teacher:  Why did you hit him, Georgie?
307:162,02[X  ]| Georgie:  Please, miss, he called me a Pommy.
307:162,03[X  ]| Aussie (with a discoloured eye):  Well, you are one,
307:162,04[X  ]| ain'cher?  Can I help it that$3$ ch'are one?
307:162,05['  ]| Pommy is supposed to$9$ be short for$4$ pomegranate.  Pomegranate,
307:162,06['  ]| pronounced invariably pommygranate, is a near
307:162,07['  ]| enough rhyme to$4$ immigrant, in$4$ a naturally rhyming
307:162,08['  ]| country.  Furthermore, immigrants are known in$4$ their
307:162,09['  ]| first months, before their blood "thins down," by$4$ their
307:162,10['  ]| round and ruddy cheeks.  So$5#2$ we are told.  Hence again,
307:162,11['  ]| pomegranate, and hence Pommy.  Let etymologists be
307:162,12['  ]| appeased:  it is the authorised derivation.
307:162,13@a   | Perhaps, 
307:162,13['  ]| said Somers to$4$ himself, 
307:162,13@a   | I am just a Pommy and
307:162,14@a   | a fool.  If my blood had thinned down, I should not make
307:162,15@a   | all this fuss over sharing in$5$ with Kangaroo or being mates
307:162,16@a   | with Jack*Callcott.  If I am not a ruddy Pommy, I am a
307:162,17@a   | green one.  Of course they take the thing as it comes to$4$
307:162,18@a   | them, and they expect me to$9$ do the same.  Yet there I am
307:162,19@a   | hopping and hissing like$4$ a fish in$4$ a frying-pan.  Putting
307:162,20@a   | too much "soul" into it.  Far too much.  When your
307:162,21@a   | blood has thinned down, out here, there is nothing but the
307:162,22@a   | merest sediment of a soul left, and your wits and your
307:162,23@a   | feelings are clear of it.  You take things as they come, as
307:162,24@a   | Jack says.  Is not that$6#2$ the sanest way to$9$ take them, instead
307:162,25@a   | of trying to$9$ drive them through the exact hole in$4$ the hedge
307:162,26@a   | that$6#1$ you have managed to$9$ poke your head through?  Oh,
307:162,27@a   | you unlearn a lot as your blood thins down.  But there is
307:162,28@a   | an awful lot to$9$ be unlearnt.  And when you have unlearnt
307:162,29@a   | it, you never say so$5#2$.  In$4$ the first place, because it is dead
307:162,30@a   | against the sane old British tradition.  And in$4$ the second
307:162,31@a   | place, because you do not really care about telling what
307:162,32@a   | you feel, once your blood has thinned down and is clear
307:162,33@a   | of soul.
307:162,34@a   | "Thin, you Australian burgundy," 
307:162,34['  ]| said Somers to$4$ his
307:162,35['  ]| own body, when he caught a glimpse of it unawares,
307:162,36['  ]| reflected in$4$ the glass as he was going to$4$ bed.  
307:162,36@a   | "You are
307:162,37@a   | thin enough as a bottle, but the wine needs a lot of
307:162,38@a   | maturing.  I have made a fool of myself latterly."
307:162,39@a   | Yet he said to$4$ himself:  
307:162,39@a   | "Do I want my blood to$9$ thin
307:162,40@a   | down like$4$ theirs? ~~ that$6#2$ peculiar emptiness that$6#1$ is in$4$ them,
307:162,41@a   | because of the thinning that$6#1$ has gone out of them?  Do I
307:162,42@a   | want this curious transparent blood of the antipodes, with
307:163,01@a   | its momentaneous feelings, and its sort of \absentness?\
307:163,02@a   | But of course till my blood has thinned down I shall not see
307:163,03@a   | with their eyes.  And how in$4$ the name of heaven is this
307:163,04@a   | world-brotherhood mankind going to$9$ see with one eye, eye
307:163,05@a   | to$4$ eye, when the very blood is of different thickness on$4$
307:163,06@a   | different continents, and with the difference in$4$ blood, the
307:163,07@a   | inevitable psychic difference?  Different vision!"