importance; and dinner passed without
any allusion to his own affairs. And now the chances of his speaking
out were slight; he could have been entirely frank only under the first
stimulus of meeting.

Even when they rose from the table Purdy continued to hold the stage.
For he had turned up with hardly a shirt to his back, and had to be
rigged out afresh from Mahony's wardrobe. It was decided that he should
remain their guest in the meantime; also that Mahony should call on his
behalf on the Commissioner of Police, and put in a good word for him.
For Purdy had come back with the idea of seeking a job in the Ballarat
Mounted Force.

When Mahony could no longer put off starting on his afternoon round,
Purdy went with him to the livery-barn, limping briskly at his side. On
the way, he exclaimed aloud at the marvellous changes that had taken
place since he was last in the township. There were half a dozen
gas-lamps in Sturt Street by this time, the gas being distilled from a
mixture of oil and gum-leaves.

"One wouldn't credit it if one didn't see it with one's own peepers!"
he cried, repeatedly bringing up short before the plate-glass windows
of the shops, the many handsome, verandahed hotels, the granite front
of Christ Church. "And from what I hear, Dick, now companies have
jumped the claims and are deep-sinking in earnest, fortunes'll be made
like one o'clock."

But on getting home again, he sat down in front of Polly and said, with
a businesslike air: "And now tell me all about old Dick! You know,
Poll, he's such an odd fish; if he himself doesn't offer to uncork,
somehow one can't just pump him. And I want to know everything that
concerns him--from A to Z."

Polly could not hold out against this affectionate curiosity.
Entrenching her needle in its stuff, she put her work away and
complied. And soon to her own satisfaction. For the first time in her
married life she was led to discuss her husband's ways and actions with
another; and, to her amazement, she found that it was easier to talk to
Purdy about Richard than to Richard himself. Purdy and she saw things
in the same light; no rigmarole of explanation was necessary. Now with
Richard, it was not so. In conversation with him, one constantly felt
that he was not speaking out, or, to put it more plainly, that he was
going on meanwhile with his own, very different thoughts. And behind
what he did say, there was sure to lurk some imaginary scruple, some
rather f