" But
I wouldn't; I said I had to meet a chap. Jack wouldn't have understood.
I had been up before, but when I saw him and Clara so happy and
comfortable, and thought of the past and my secret, and thought of
myself, a useless, purposeless, restless, homeless sort of fellow,
hanging out at a boarding-house, it nearly broke me up, and I had to
have a drink or two afterwards. I often wonder if Clara guessed and
understood. You never know how much a woman knows; but--ah, well!

Jack had taken my things home with him and he and Clara had packed them.
I found afterwards that she had washed, dried and ironed some collars
and handkerchiefs of mine during the night. Clara and Jack came out to
the gate, and as I wouldn't go in to have a cup of tea there was nothing
for it but to say good-bye. She was dressed in a fresh-looking print
blouse and dark skirt, and wore a white hood that fell back from her
head; she was a little girl, with sweet, small, freckled features,
and red-gold hair, and kind, sympathetic grey eyes. I thought her the
freshest, and fairest, and daintiest little woman in the district.

I was Jack's mate, so she always treated me as a sort of brother-in-law,
and called me by my Christian name. Mates are closer than brothers in
the bush.

I turned my back and pretended to tighten the straps and girths on
the packhorse while she said good-bye to Jack. I heard her speaking
earnestly to him, and once I heard her mention Peter M`Laughlan's name.
I thought Jack answered rather impatiently. "Oh, that's all right,
Clara," he said, "that's all over--past and gone. I wish you would
believe it. You promised never to speak of that any more."

I know how it was. Jack never cared to hear about Peter; he was too
ashamed of the past, perhaps; besides, deep down, we feel a sort of
resentment towards any reference to a man who has helped or saved us in
the past. It's human nature.

Then they spoke in low tones for a while, and then Jack laughed, and
kissed her, and said, "Oh, I'll be back before the time's up." Then he
ran into the house to say good-bye to Mary's sister, who was staying
with her, and who was laid up with a sprained ankle.

Then Clara stepped up to me and laid her fingers on my shoulder. I
trembled from head to foot and hoped she didn't notice it.

"Joe," she said, looking at me with her big, searching grey eyes, "I
believe I can trust you. I want you to look after Jack. You know why.
Never let him have one