rds that she
was only hurt because it struck her that what she said about money might
have been taken for a hint. She didn't understand me yet, and I didn't
know human nature. I didn't say anything to Jack--in fact about this
time I left off telling him about things. He didn't seem hurt; he worked
hard and seemed happy.

I really meant what I said to Mary about the money. It was pure good
nature. I'd be a happier man now, I think, and richer man perhaps, if
I'd never grown any more selfish than I was that night on the wood-heap
with Mary. I felt a great sympathy for her--but I got to love her. I
went through all the ups and downs of it. One day I was having tea in
the kitchen, and Mary and another girl, named Sarah, reached me a clean
plate at the same time: I took Sarah's plate because she was first, and
Mary seemed very nasty about it, and that gave me great hopes. But all
next evening she played draughts with a drover that she'd chummed up
with. I pretended to be interested in Sarah's talk, but it didn't seem
to work.

A few days later a Sydney Jackaroo visited the station. He had a good
pea-rifle, and one afternoon he started to teach Mary to shoot at a
target. They seemed to get very chummy. I had a nice time for three or
four days, I can tell you. I was worse than a wall-eyed bullock with
the pleuro. The other chaps had a shot out of the rifle. Mary called 'Mr
Wilson' to have a shot, and I made a worse fool of myself by sulking. If
it hadn't been a blooming Jackaroo I wouldn't have minded so much.

Next evening the Jackaroo and one or two other chaps and the girls went
out 'possum-shooting. Mary went. I could have gone, but I didn't. I
mooched round all the evening like an orphan bandicoot on a burnt ridge,
and then I went up to the pub and filled myself with beer, and damned
the world, and came home and went to bed. I think that evening was
the only time I ever wrote poetry down on a piece of paper. I got so
miserable that I enjoyed it.

I felt better next morning, and reckoned I was cured. I ran against Mary
accidentally and had to say something.

'How did you enjoy yourself yesterday evening, Miss Brand?' I asked.

'Oh, very well, thank you, Mr Wilson,' she said. Then she asked, 'How
did you enjoy yourself, Mr Wilson?'

I puzzled over that afterwards, but couldn't make anything out of it.
Perhaps she only said it for the sake of saying something. But about
this time my handkerchiefs and collars disappea