ad, and the march of triumph to the "Silver Shoe".
And this, the second passion of his life--love of a woman--was set like
a stage-play among the wide spaces of sea and sky, the flight of gulls,
the encircling hills, and the rough, salt breath of the harbour.

Suddenly he saw her crossing the road, threading her way between the
electric cars, and noted with intense satisfaction the distinction of
her figure, clothed in light tweed, with an air of scrupulous neatness
in which she could hold her own with the rich idlers from the Shore.
She smiled at him with her peculiar, intense look, and then frowned
slightly. Jonah knew that something was wrong, and remembered that he
had forgotten to raise his hat, an accomplishment that she had taught
him with much difficulty.

"So sorry to be late, but I couldn't really help it. I'll tell you
presently," she said, as they passed the turnstiles.

Jonah knew by her voice that she was in a bad temper, and his heart
sank. The afternoon that he had waited for and counted on for nearly a
week would be spoiled. Never before in his life had his pleasures
depended on the humour or caprice of anyone, but he had learned with
dismal surprise that a word or a look from this woman could make or mar
the day for him. He gave her a sidelong look, and saw she was angry by
a certain hardness in her profile, and, as he stared moodily at the
water, he wondered if all women were as mutable and capricious. In his
dealings with women--shop-hands who moved at his bidding like
machines--he had never suspected these gusts of emotion that ended as
suddenly as they began. Ada had the nerves of a cow.

Over the way the Manly boat was filling slowly with mothers and
children and stray couples. A lamentable band on the upper deck mixed
popular airs with the rattle of winches. The Quay was alive with
ferry-boats, blunt-nosed and squat like a flat-iron, churning the water
with invisible screws. A string of lascars from the P. & O. boat caught
his eye with a patch of colour, the white calico trousers, the gay
embroidered vests, and the red or white turbans bringing a touch of the
East to Sydney. Suddenly the piles of the jetty slipped to the rear,
and the boat moved out past the huge mail-steamers from London,
Marseilles, Bremen, Hongkong, and Yokohama lying at the wharves.

As they rounded the point the warships swung into view, grim and
forbidding, with the ugly strength of bulldogs. A light breeze fl