ugly pieces of men back to life again; the same
thing that makes some women and girls swear ropes round men's necks.
The Pretty Girl might be the daughter of well-to-do people--even
aristocrats, said Mitchell--she was pretty enough and spoke well enough.
"Every woman's a barmaid at heart," as the _Bulletin_ puts it, said
Mitchell.

But not even one of the haggard women of Bourke ever breathed a
suspicion of scandal against her. They said she was too good and too
pretty to be where she was. You see it was not as in an old settled town
where hags blacken God's world with their tongues. Bourke was just a
little camping town in a big land, where free, good-hearted democratic
Australians, and the best of black sheep from the old world were
constantly passing through; where husband's were often obliged to be
away from home for twelve months, and the storekeepers had to trust the
people, and mates trusted each other, and the folks were broad-minded.
The mind's eye had a wide range.

After her maiden speech the Pretty Girl seldom spoke, except to return
thanks for collections--and she never testified. She had a sweet voice
and used to sing.

Now, if I were writing pure fiction, and were not cursed with an
obstinate inclination to write the truth, I might say that, after the
advent of the Pretty Girl, the morals of Bourke improved suddenly and
wonderfully. That One-eyed Bogan left off gambling and drinking and
fighting and swearing, and put on a red coat and testified and fought
the devil only; that Mitchell dropped his mask of cynicism; that Donald
Macdonald ate no longer of the tree of knowledge and ceased to worry
himself with psychological problems, and was happy; and that Tom Hall
was no longer a scoffer. That no one sneaked round through the scrub
after dusk to certain necessary establishments in weather-board cottages
on the outskirts of the town; and that the broad-minded and obliging
ladies thereof became Salvation Army lassies.

But none of these things happened. Drunks quieted down or got out of the
way if they could when the Pretty Girl appeared on the scene, fights and
games of "headin' 'em" were adjourned, and weak, ordinary language was
used for the time being, and that was about all.

Nevertheless, most of the chaps were in love with that Pretty Girl
in the Army--all those who didn't _worship_ her privately. Long Bob
Brothers hovered round in hopes, they said, that she'd meet with an
accident--get run over