ou wouldn't. But it was a German Professor who taught B---- No. I
will NOT tell you her name.'

'Anyway, I know that it begins with a "B." And I know that she's got
one relation called Molly, and another called Chris, and a friend whose
name is Rosamond--likewise that Rosamond is the wife of Luke.... By
Jove!' He stopped short and looked at Mrs Gildea with sharp
enlightenment.

They were in the veranda of her cottage, and he was seated on the steps
smoking, his long legs stretched out against one veranda post, his
broad back against another. 'Seen the paper this morning?' he asked.

'No. If you pass the CHRONICLE Office, I wish you'd lodge a complaint
for me against the vagaries of their distribution department. Twice
lately I haven't had the paper till the afternoon.'

He pulled it from his pocket, and, leaning across, handed it to her.

'Read the English Telegrams,' he said.

Joan stopped cleaning her typewriter and examined the column of latest
intelligence.

'Good gracious! So they've appointed Sir Luke Tallant new Governor of
Leichardt's Land!'

'Luke!--A coincidence you'll say. No good telling me that. SHE wrote
that "Luke" was hankering after a colonial governorship.'

'Well, he's got it,' replied Mrs Gildea noncommittally.

'And if you read the leading article you'll see that the CHRONICLE is
justly outraged at so important a post as that of Governor of
Leichardt's Land being given to an unknown man who has never served
outside the Colonial Office in London and who doesn't even belong to
the noble army of Peers.'

'That's all nonsense. Luke Tallant's a friend of Chamberlain's, a
thorough Imperialist and a very good man for the post.'

'You know him then?'

'I know OF him.'

'From HER?'

'HER! Has it come to HER! Colin, if anyone had told me that you would
ever be fool enough to fall in love with a woman you've never seen, I
should have laughed outright. You don't even know what she's like.'

'I can see her in my mind's eye, as I used to see the women I read
about by my camp fire. You'd never believe either what a queer
idealistic chap I can be when I'm mooning about the Bush. Don't you
know, Joan'--and his voice got suddenly grave and deep-toned--'you
ought to, for you were a bush girl and you've had men-kind out in the
Back Blocks--Don't you know that when a man has got to go on day after
day, week after week, year after year, fighting devils of loneliness
and worse--with nothing to look at