that it is best to part--isn't it worth while to wait
two years more in order to make quite sure? No doubt, you will say that
I am shewing the proverbial ignorance of women in legal questions. But
I can't help feeling that there must be some way in which it could be
arranged. I do beseech you, Colin, not to act hastily.

You say that if this divorce took place, Bridget's reputation would not
suffer, and that she could marry again without a stain upon her
character as they say of wrongfully accused prisoners who are
discharged. But again--is that the question?

I know nothing of your present circumstances--health, outlook on
life--anything. Bridget once hinted to me that you might have your own
reasons for desiring your freedom. She would give no grounds for the
suspicion that there is any other woman in your life. I do not think
anything would make me credit such a thing and I put that notion
entirely out of court. I do not know--as your letter was dated from
Leichardt's Town--whether you still live at Moongarr. It is possible
you may have sold the place. I hear of severe droughts in parts of
Leichardt's Land, but have no information about the Leura district. Now
that Sir Luke Tallant has exchanged to Hong Kong, Bridget hasn't any
touch with Leichardt's Land, and I have very few correspondents there.

Write to me--not a stilted, legal kind of letter like the last. Tell me
about yourself--your feelings, your conditions. We are old
friends--friends long before Bridget came either into my life or yours.
You can trust me. If you do not want me to repeat to Bridget anything
you may tell me, I will faithfully observe your wishes. But I can't
bear that you, whom I should have thought so well of--have felt so much
about--should be making a mess of your life, and that I should not put
out a hand to prevent it.

Always your friend,

JOAN GILDEA.

CHAPTER 11

It was a long time before Mrs Gildea received an answer to her letter.
She had begun to despair of ever getting another line from Colin
McKeith, when at last he wrote from Moongarr, six months later.

MY DEAR JOAN,

Your letter has made me think. I could not write before for reasons
that you'll gather as you go along. I shall do as you ask and tell you
everything as straightly and plainly as I can. I feel it is best that
you should know exactly the sort of conditions I'm under and what a
woman would have had to put up with if she had been with me--what she