d abruptly.

'Leaving!' She was about to take a book from the small table, but did not
do so. She turned from him, and stood with face averted, plucking at the
vine tendrils. 'At once?' she asked.

'Almost. I fear I have outstayed my welcome.'

'That is hardly fair.'

'True, you have been very, very kind. I can never forget your goodness.'

'You owe me no gratitude. After all, I am only governess here.'

'I owe you more than anyone else--I owe you the happiness Boobyalla could
never have given me without you.'

'You have not told me when you leave.'

'In a week.'

'A week! Oh, that is quite a long time!' Her voice had become stronger,
and she passed down the steps and along the garden walk to the children
without having turned her face to him. It seemed that she could not trust
herself.

He watched her closely, pressing his lower lip between finger and thumb,
and a mirthless smile curled the corners of his mouth.

To Marcia's great surprise, her husband insisted on her arranging another
party in honour of their guest, and to give their neighbours an
opportunity of bidding him good-bye. To be sure, nothing like the
Christmas gathering could be attempted, but the Cargills and two or three
other families living within twenty miles were to be invited, and Yarra
and Bob Hooke were despatched with the invitations. Hooke had been a
shepherd at the five-mile hut till within three days, when a new hand
Mack had employed was sent to take his place, and now Bob was acting
rouse-about. Ryder had heard of this new hand as a man of atrocious
ugliness--in fact, the man had been sent away, Marcia said, because the
children were frightened half out of their wits at the sight of him.

Lucy received a letter from Jim Done on the afternoon of the day on which
Ryder announced his impending departure. The letter was not a long one,
and it lacked the cheerfulness that had characterized Jim's previous
letters to Lucy. It told of Burton's death, of his own injuries and his
long sickness, and of Ryder's gallant conduct. He was now almost
recovered, he said, and by the time she received his letter would be back
at Jim Crow with the Peetrees, who had returned and pegged out claims on
Blanket Flat, having failed to do anything for themselves at Simpson's
Ranges. Jim admitted that his mate's death had been a heavy blow. 'I had
not realized how strong our friendship was,' he wrote. 'He was the best
man I have known, and I do not think i