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��Yes, if it��s anything to do with yourself, it��s preposterous. But when it��s me, it��s mistakes, and FAUX PAS, and all the rest of it. Sometimes I really feel quite confused. To remember I mustn��t shake hands here or even bow there. That in some quarters I must only say ��Good afternoon,�� and not ��How do you do?���� and then the other way round as well. That nice Mrs. Perkes is not the thing and ought to be cold-shouldered; and when I have company I��m not to give them anything to eat. Oh, Richard, it all seems to me such FUDGE! How grown-up people can spend their lives being so silly, I don��t know. Out THERE, you had to forget what a person��s outside was like �� I mean his table-manners and whether he could say his aitches �� as long as he got on and was capable . . . or rich. But here it��s always: ��WHO is he? How far back can he trace his pedigree?���� and nothing else seems to matter a bit. I do believe you might be friends with a swindler or a thief, as long as his family-tree was all right. And the disgrace trade seems to be! Why, looked at this way there wasn��t any one in Ballarat who was fit to know. Just think of Tilly and old Mr. Ocock. Here they would be put down as the vulgarest of the vulgar. One certainly wouldn��t be able even to BOW to them! And then remember all they were to us, and how fond I was of Tilly, and what a splendid character she had. No, this kind of thing goes against the grain in me. I��m afraid the truth is, I like them vulgar best. And I��m too old, now, to change.��

Whereupon the last trace of Mahony��s starchedness had melted, in a glow of gratitude and content.

��Prestige? Pah! Robinson will say he did the curing, and I stepped in and took the credit. A fat lot of prestige to be got from that! Mary, there��s been a dead set made against me here �� I��ve felt it now for some time, though why, I knew no more than Adam. To-night I believe I got a clue. It��s Australia if you please! �� the fact of my having practised in Australia is against me.�� And at Mary��s vigorously expressed disbelief: ��Well! just listen to this, my dear, and judge for yourself. First of all, they prefer Robinson FUDDLED, to me sober. Yes, it��s the truth. When I get to ��Toplands�� I find him tight �� stupidly tight �� standing by the bed staring like an owl. Quite devoid of shame he evidently is not though, for no sooner did he see me than off he bolted �� leaving me as much in the dark as ever. I tried to get some information from the womenfolk about the earlier stages of the complaint; but not one was capable of giving a connected answer . . . . I��d sent the other young fellow off for leeches and the barber. Young Leonard lay convulsed and insensible. And yet, if you��ll believe me, Robinson had been telling them it was gastric, and plying him with brandy. Inflammation of the membranes of the brain, Mary! �� and the fool killing him with stimulants. While I was making mustard poultices for his feet and legs, back comes Robinson and attempts to feel his pulse. I said: ��Now look here, my good man, if you don��t give me some particulars of this case, I shall proceed to treat it without you.�� He answered not a word. Then I turned to her. ��Now, madam,�� said I, ��I��m not going to stand this. Either he or I must leave the room �� or indeed the house �� and, until you decide which, I go downstairs.�� She followed, all but clawing at my coat. He lurches after us, shouting abuse . . . for the whole house to hear. And what, pray, do you think he said? . . . amongst other scurrilous trash. ��Very well, if you prefer the opinion of this old quack to mine, take it and abide by the consequences. Australia! We all knows what THAT means. Ask him what other trades he��s plied there. Make him turn out his credentials.�� It was as much as I could do to keep from knocking him down. Only the thought of the lad upstairs restrained me. SHE was very humble and apologetic, of course; besought me to take no notice; almost grovelled to me to save her son, etc. etc. I made short work of her, though.��

Over these imaginings the hours flew by �� hours not divided off each from the next, but fusing to form one single golden day: of a kind that does not come twice in a lifetime. Meanwhile the vessel was well advanced up the great Bay, and familiar landmarks began to rise into view. He had sometimes wondered, on the voyage out, what his feelings would be, when he saw these familiar places again and knew that the pincer of the ��Heads�� had snapped behind him. Now, he contemplated them with a vacant eye; did not take up the thread of a personal relationship. Or once only: at sight of a bare old clump of hills behind Geelong. Then he impulsively went below to fetch Mary �� Mary was packing the cabin furniture, sewing up mattresses in the floor-carpeting, the mirror in the blankets �� and she, good-naturedly rising from her knees, for to-day she had not the heart to refuse him anything, tied on her bonnet and accompanied him on deck. There, standing arm-in-arm, they thought and spoke of a certain unforgettable evening, now years deep in the past.

Thus she reflected as she watched the landscape slip past: yellowish-grey flats, or stone-strewn paddocks tufted with clumps of brown grass, all of which she had seen too often before to pay much heed to them. Still she never wanted to read in a train. So unlike Richard, whose idea of a journey was to bury himself in a book from start to finish. At the present moment he was deep in a pamphlet entitled: ��The Unity, Duality or Trinity of the Godhead?���� Tch, what questions he did vex his head with! . . . he must always be trying to settle the universe. If only he would sometimes give his poor brains a rest.

��Oh, there��s no talking to you nowadays, your head��s so full of windy stuff. But I tell you this, Richard, I refuse to have my children dragged from place to place . . . as I��ve been. It��s not as if it��s ever helped a bit either, our giving up home after home. You��re always wild, at the moment, to get away, but afterwards you��re no happier than you were before. And then, what makes me so angry, you let yourself be influenced by such silly, trivial things. I believe you��re ready to sell this house just because you LIKE the man who wants to buy it, or because he��s praised up the garden. But you��ll be sorry for it, I know you will, before three months are out. I haven��t lived with you all these years for nothing.��