with
the look of the sea in their eyes, smoked and spat as they watched the
ships in brooding silence. For of all structures contrived by the
hands of man, a ship is the most fascinating. It is so complete, so
perfect in its devices and ingenuity, a house and a habitation for men
set adrift on the waste of waters, plunging headlong into danger and
romance with its long spars and coiled ropes, its tarry sailors roaring
a sea-chanty, and the common habits of eating and sleeping accomplished
in a spirit of adventure.

Two streams, mainly women, met at the turnstiles--mothers and children
from the crowded, dusty suburbs, drawn by the sudden heat of an autumn
sun in a cloudless sky to the harbour for a day in the open air, and
the leisured ladies of the North Shore, calm and collected, dressed in
expensive materials, crossing from the fashionable waterside suburbs to
the Quay to saunter idly round the Block, look in the shops, and drink
a cup of tea.

Jonah, who had been standing outside the Mosman ferry for the last
half-hour, looked at the clock in the Customs House opposite, and swore
to himself. It was on the stroke of three, and she would miss the
boat, as usual. It was always the same--she was always late; and when
he had worked himself into a fury, deciding to wait another minute, and
then to go home, she would suddenly appear breathless, with a smile and
an apology that took the words out of his mouth.

He watched each tram as it stopped, looking for one face and figure
among the moving crowd, for he had learned to know her walk in the
distance while her features were a blur. For months past he had
endured that supreme tyranny--the domination of the woman--till his
whole life seemed to be spent between thinking about her and waiting
for her at appointed corners. The hours they spent together fled with
incredible speed, and she always shortened the flying minutes by coming
late, with one of half a dozen excuses that he knew by heart.

Their first meeting had been at the Quay the day after he had brought
Ada home drunk from the "Angel", and since then a silent understanding
had grown between them that they should always meet there and cross the
water, as Jonah's conspicuous figure made recognition very likely in
the streets and parks of the city.

The first passion of his life--love of his child--had for ever stamped
on his brain the scenes and atmosphere of Cardigan Street, the struggle
for life on the Ro