e impression on Bridget's
preoccupied brain. She had the thought of that coming interview with
Maule before her. Oola's continuous wailing was an affliction, and she
gave the half-caste a blanket and some food and told her to camp on the
further side of the hide house where, with eyes and ears glued by turns
against the largest chink between the slabs, she might see and speak to
the prisoner.

CHAPTER 4

Maule's and Lady Bridget's TETE-TETE dinner was an embarrassed meal,
with Kuppi and Maggie hovering about the table. The man's eyes said
more than his lips, and the woman sat, strained and silent, or else
uttered forced commonplaces.

They were alone at last on the veranda, with night and the vast
distances enfolding them. The air was close and hot, the sky banked
with storm clouds, and, occasionally, there were flashes of sheet
lightning and low growls of thunder. Before long the head-station was
very quiet. Harris had inspected the hide-house and, having assured
himself of the safety of his prisoner, had retired to the veranda room,
making a great parade of keeping his door open, his gun loaded, and his
clothes on, ready for any emergency. Joe Casey had gone to his hut, the
Chinaman and the Malay boy to theirs, and Maggie, the woman servant, to
her own tiny room wedged in between the new house and the kitchen wing.

But it was all early. At that hour, Maule laughingly reminded Lady
Bridget, the dining world of London would scarcely have reached the
dessert stage.

She would not waste time on banalities.

'I've been waiting to tell you something. My mind is quite made up. I
can't go on like this any longer. You must go away to-morrow.'

'To-morrow!' he echoed in dismay.

'Yes. I've thought it out. You don't know the country, but the mailman
will be here to-morrow, and he can show you the road.'

'You are very kind.... Why are you so anxious to get rid of me?'

'Surely you understand. You made me a scene yesterday. You'd go on
making me scenes.'

'And you?'

She gave a hard little laugh. 'Oh! I--don't want to play any more.'

'You call it play! To me it's deadly earnest. I let you go once. I do
not mean to let you go again.'

'But you are talking wildly. Don't you see that it is impossible we can
be friends.'

'Oh! that I grant you. We must be everything to each other--or nothing.'

In spite of her cold peremptoriness he could see that she was deeply
agitated. That fact gave him courage. His