for twenty miles. As
for Bingong, he was only a black fellow, aged fifteen, and height
inconsiderable. So, of the three, Billy had his own way, and even
shamelessly attempted to lord it over me.

Most husbands would consider my position painful, particularly when I
say that my wife accepted the attention of all three lovers with calm
pleasure, and that of Billy with a shocking indifference to my feelings.
She never tried to explain away any circumstance, no matter how awkward
it might look if put down in black and white. Billy never quailed before
my look; he faced me down with his ingenuous smile; he patted me on the
arms approvingly; or, with apparent malice, asked me questions difficult
to answer, when I came back from a journey to Brisbane--for a man
naturally finds it hard to lay bare how he spent all his time in town.
Because he did it so suavely and naively, one could not be resentful. It
might seem that matters had reached a climax, when, one day, Mulholland
came over, and, seeing my wife and her lovers together watering the
garden and teaching cockatoos, said to me that Billy had the advantage
of me on my own ground. It may not be to my credit that I only grinned,
and forbore even looking foolish. Yet I was very fond of my wife all
the time. We stood pretty high on the Charwon Downs, and though it was
terribly hot at times, it was healthy enough; and she never lost her
prettiness, though, maybe, she lacked bloom.

I think I never saw her look better than she did that day when
Mulholland was with me. She had on the lightest, softest kind of stuff,
with sleeves reaching only a little below her elbow--her hands and arms
never got sunburnt in the hottest weather--her face smiled out from
under the coolest-looking hat imaginable, and her hair, though gathered,
had a happy trick of always lying very loose and free about the head,
saving her from any primness otherwise possible, she was so neat.
Mulholland and I were sitting in the veranda. I glanced up at the
thermometer, and it registered a hundred in the shade! Mechanically I
pushed the lime-juice towards Mulholland, and pointed to the water-bag.
There was nothing else to do except grumble at the drought. Yet there
my wife was, a picture of coolness and delight; the intense heat seemed
only to make her the more refreshing to the eye. Water was not abundant,
but we still felt justified in trying to keep her bushes and flowers
alive; and she stood there holding the