Coolibah Creek

COOLIBAH CREEK Anne Hampson

Even though they had been divorced for some time, Lena hadn't been able to put all memories of her husband Stephen behind her; and now he was begging her to go out to join him in the Australian Outback, with a view to marrying again. She knew she would have to give the whole matter a lot of thought. She wasn't going to break her heart over Stephen a second time - but could she be sure that everything was dead between them? And she found it even more difficult to sort out her feelings in the presence of Stephen's boss, the disturbing Ralph Douglas.....

CHAPTER ONE LENA read the letter for the second time before handing it to her mother-in-law. Was it coincidence that Constance Woodridge happened to drop in only a moment after the postman called? He did not come until about eleven o'clock on Saturdays, so it was feasible that Mrs Woodridge was passing, seeing that the estate shops were just along the road from the flat where Lena had lived since the divorce—the divorce she had tried to avoid because her heart was breaking, and because she was so very sure that Stephen was making the mistake of his life by wanting to marry Rowena Harkness, who was a notorious flirt anyway, and who had been married and divorced already. Lena watched intently as Mrs Woodridge perused the long wide sheet of airmail paper. She had never really liked Stephen's mother but had always managed not to let her see it. Stephen had had no in-laws to like or dislike, as Lena's mother was dead and her father had married again and was living in South Africa, his job having taken him there when Lena was only eighteen years old. He had made her a present of the house in which they had lived until his second marriage. After his departure with his new wife Lena had needed no persuasion to marry Stephen Woodridge with whom she had been keeping company for over two months. 'It's too soon,' a well-meaning friend had warned Lena. 'You can't really know him after such a short time.' But Stephen had wanted Lena, desperately. She had no chance against his loving assurances that life with him would be bliss for the rest of her days. In any case, she was lost and lonely and afraid of living on her own in a large three-storey house which had always been too big, even when her father and mother were there. She knew she was well on the way to loving Stephen, felt he would be able to fill the void left by the departure of her father on his marriage. Within

three months Lena was madly in love with her husband, the handsome blond who had rushed her into marriage. Three years later, at twenty-one, she was still madly in love with him. It would last for ever, he had confidently told her, and she had repeated this to her friend. 'I'm so very glad I married him when I did,' she added dreamily, 'for if I hadn't he might have found someone else.' Eventually he did find someone else, scarcely six months after Lena had uttered those optimistic words to her friend. He asked for a divorce, but Lena, wiser than he, had flatly refused. But the law had beaten her. She could not stay married if her husband wanted his freedom, she was told by the solicitor whom she had consulted. So she let her husband have his freedom. He had taken half of everything and the dear little home they had built together was no more. The house had been bought with the money received from the sale of Lena's old home; Lena had been fold by the solicitor that she had better put the second house up for sale as her husband could claim half by law. Stephen blatantly took half, took money that Lena considered was not his. The result of it all was that she had not enough money to buy again, for herself, and she was forced to rent a flat. She had given up her job about four months before Stephen asked for the divorce, as Lena believed she was pregnant. She- had been thrilled with the idea, and since the home lacked nothing by way of comfort, and as they had a nice little nest-egg in the bank, she gave up her work so as to devote all her time to creating a lovely nursery from the spare room, to making all her own baby clothes, to going out in search of a pram and cot and all the other exciting items necessary for the arrival of a new member of the family. Then to her bitter disappointment it proved to be a mistake; on top of this came Stephen's information that he was called upon to work away every week-end.. Trusting him implicitly, Lena never dreamed

that he was with another girl, in the cottage in the country owned by her aunt, miles away from anywhere. After the separation Lena had obtained a post as secretary to the managing director of a small engineering firm. She was well-paid and highly thought of; she had more holidays than most people, and every Friday she had the loan of her boss's car so that she could run down to the local market and do her shopping. She began to live a smooth uncomplicated existence, but now this letter had arrived and her mind and thoughts were no longer serene. 'He wants you back.' Mrs Woodridge's voice was a dull monotone: nothing could be learned from it, but Lena knew instinctively that the contents of the letter were no surprise to her mother-in-law. 'That's what he says.' Lena drew a quivering breath: she had never stopped loving Stephen even though his face was often hard to focus in her mental vision. She firmly believed that even if she ever did stop loving him there would never be another man in her life. 'He sounds very genuine, dear.' Constance Wood- ridge lifted a bony hand to remove a wisp of greying hair from her narrow forehead. Although only forty- nine, she looked all of sixty, thought Lena with a lingering stare. According to what Stephen had told her, his mother had lost all interest in herself after the death of her husband when Stephen was only ten years old. Lena had always felt a stab of pity for her whenever they met, since there seemed to be nothing in her life except her almost cloying love for her son. Lena had known a few pangs of guilt at refusing her offer of a home when she and Stephen decided to marry. 'I don't want to live with anyone,' Lena had said apologetically. 'I want my own house—my own kitchen, my own key.'

And as Stephen had been delighted with the charming bungalow which Lena had in mind, he supported fully her wish to set up house for themselves. After the divorce Mrs Woodridge had again offered Lena a home, and again she had refused. 'What are you going to do?' The flat, monotonous voice broke into Lena's reverie and she glanced up, into pale blue eyes ... cold eyes and expressionless. 'It's taken him over two years to ask me to go back. It's that long since he and Rowena parted.' 'He probably felt ashamed, dear. You have to give him credit, though, for not marrying Rowena after all.' She spoke as if her son were to be highly commended for his decision not to marry the girl who had caused his broken marriage. 'He found her out.' There was a flash of anger in Lena's big brown eyes, a tartness in her voice. Her mother-in-law, she remembered, had told one of her neighbours that Rowena was 'quite a nice girl'. 'I knew he would find her out. I never thought, though, that he'd discover his mistake until after he was married to her.' 'Well, he did, and you must admit that it showed a good deal of common sense when he decided to give her up.' She handed back the letter and Lena automatically glanced at the address in the right-hand corner. 'Coolibah Creek…' An enormous cattle station in the Outback of Australia owned by a man named Ralph Douglas for whom Stephen worked as a range- rider. Restless after the break with Rowena, with whom he had lived while awaiting the divorce, Stephen had eventually decided to make a complete new life for himself and had

gone off to Australia, not sparing a thought to the mother he was leaving behind, lonely and filled with self-pity. Mrs Woodridge had told Lena all this, and although Lena often wished she would refrain from talking about her son, she listened patiently, aware that it afforded the woman a certain amount of pleasure to sit there and relate what she had read in the letters she received from Australia. He was good at his job, his mother had said proudly, and was thought very highly of by the Boss of Coolibah Creek. He lived in one of the bungalows on the estate, having arrived when it was empty, the previous owners having become dissatisfied with the life on the great cattle station and the wild loneliness that was an essential part of it, and moved to Perth. Lena had taken all this in and she was glad that Stephen was happy. But it seemed that he wanted something more ... he wanted a companion, a wife… 'What are you intending to do, Lena, dear?' Constance Woodridge's question brought a small sigh from her daughter-in-law. She leant forward to put the letter on the table, her mind disturbed in a way that created resentment within her. Why should Stephen intrude into her life now, after all this time? 'I don't know, Mother,' she said at last. 'I obviously can't make up my mind in a matter of minutes. The invitation's come as a shock and I've to get over it before I can even think clearly enough to come to a decision.' 'You still love him, Lena. I see it in your eyes so often.' Pleading edged the thin, colourless voice. Lena was under no illusions regarding her mother-in-law's hopes. She was thinking that if Lena returned to Stephen then he could probably be persuaded to return to England. As it was, though, he had invited Lena to go over there and talk about their lives. He knew that it was her he loved—it always had been her, he said. And that was why, in the end, he could not marry Rowena even though he was free to do so.

'We can marry again, darling,' he had written, 'and this time it will be for ever.' How simple! How sure he was of her! Obviously some correspondence had been exchanged between mother and son before this letter was penned. Mrs Woodridge knew that Lena still loved him and. she had written to tell him so. Lena was in no doubt at all about that. Presently she said, in that quiet, sweetly-modulated voice that Stephen—and others—had found so attractive, 'You and Stephen have been discussing the possibility of a reunion between him and me?' The woman's sallow face acquired a little colour, and her thin hands twisted convulsively. 'He did mention it in a letter some weeks ago, dear.' 'He asked what you thought the chances were?' 'Er—well—yes, dear--' A nervous little cough ended the sentence. Mrs Woodridge leant back in the armchair and took a crumpled packet of cigarettes from her handbag. 'He asked if I still cared for him?' There was an uneasy pause before her mother-in- law answered. 'He did, Lena, yes, he did.' Lena looked directly at her. 'And you told him ... what?' She watched the woman fumble with the cigarettes, saw her swallow hard before replying,

'I told him, dear, that you still loved him, and that in my opinion you always would.' 'Which gave him the confidence to write this letter.' Her eyes rested on it as it lay on the polished table. 'It's both your lives, Lena. You were meant for each other, there's no getting away from that.' 'Stephen didn't always think so!' retorted Lena bitterly. 'He thought nothing of breaking vows, breaking my heart! And as if that wasn't enough he took what didn't belong to him!' 'The law says that everything must be divided when a marriage breaks up. He got only what he was entitled to by law. It just happened that you had more possessions that he had, but it could have happened the other way round.' 'My parents worked hard to buy that house. It came to me, as they intended it should. They didn't struggle to pay off the mortgage so that your son could take half—and spend it on another woman!' Anger quivered within her; it showed in her heightened colour and the tightness of her mouth. This was one of those occasions when she felt she wanted nothing more to do either with Stephen or his doting mother. 'It isn't like you to be angry and bitter, Lena,' she reproved. 'I've always found you charitable and tolerant.' 'I have plenty of cause for anger and bitterness!' Lena was stung to reply. 'You love my son, so what else matters? You'll forgive him in the end, Lena, and you know it. He's handsome and he's kind—usually. You really ought to make allowances for that one slip. Rowena's so

attractive, and she was cheap. Stephen's no different from any other man when a pretty woman flings herself at his head the way she did.' Lena gasped. Did the woman know what she was saying? Did she expect that such talk would strengthen her attempt to bring about a reunion between her and Stephen? Lena just could not help saying, a tart edge to her voice, 'Am I supposed to spend the rest of my life wondering whether he's going to fall victim to every pretty girl who happens to come his way? Must I be ready to excuse all his slips?' 'Now dear! You're being bitter again, and unreasonable. Stephen isn't going to make any slips. He loves you and you know it—at least you should do, after receiving that letter. Be sensible, girl, and begin all over again. Many couples do, so you won't be the first will you?' Lena made no answer. She thought: yes, couples do begin again sometimes, but do they really make a go of it the second time? Lena had never been quite sure that she could forget what Stephen had done to her; she did know she could forgive him because, bitter as she felt at this moment, she was fully aware that her mother-in-law's presence was irritating to her; the woman's bland confidence angered her, scraping like a rasp on her nerves. Once alone, with the letter in her hands, she would weaken. Yes, undoubtedly she would weaken. Yet she thought of those long weary hours when she had sat here brooding, when her heart had dragged within her as she faced another sleepless night, or perhaps one when she would cry herself to sleep, suffering the torture of knowing that another girl was in her husband's arms. Many were the times she had walked the streets of the estate, hurrying past lighted lamps because the darkness seemed to offer her some degree of comfort. She would dwell on that heartbreaking time when the contents of their home were being sold, and then the house itself. The pain of handing over the key, her eyes aching with tears released only after she had left the house, said goodbye—and good

luck—to the new owners, a young couple about to get married. They adored the bungalow, enthusing over its 'happy atmosphere'. How little they knew! And now Stephen wanted to begin all over again. A new home to build, another future to plan. He sounded as if he wanted Lena to settle in Australia, but she had not been able to picture what the life would be. She had read a few articles from time to time about the great cattlemen who lived for the wild outdoors, spending their lives in the saddle while their womenfolk cleaned and cooked and prepared enormous meals for dozens of hungry stockmen. She knew the stations supported hundreds of people, knew that on Coolibah Creek Station there was a school and hospital, several shops and many bungalows. Mrs Woodridge had told Lena that her son had grown tough, that he was a splendid horseman—in fact, a man of whom Lena could be proud. There had been scraps of information about his boss, the grazier whose vast estate of eight thousand square miles had been handed to him by his grandmother, whose husband had been killed by a scrub bull. From what Lena had gathered Ralph Douglas was something of an autocrat, ruling his domain like a feudal overlord. His grandmother lived with him, a woman with matriarchal tendencies which at one time had caused clashes between her and her grandson, but now she was getting too old for argument and friction. Mrs Woodridge was becoming restless and Lena offered to make some coffee. 'Or perhaps you'd stay for lunch?' she added, turning as she reached the door leading from the cosy living-room to the blue and cream kitchen which Lena had decorated herself. 'I'll be making it in half an hour or so.' 'No, Lena, I've a stew in the oven, in a casserole.' She added that she would enjoy the coffee though, and her pale eyes followed Lena as she disappeared through the doorway.

'She's a real beauty!' had been Stephen's first description of Lena when he told his mother that he had met the girl he hoped to marry. Mrs Woodridge had smiled thinly; she had hoped that her son would not be thinking of marriage yet awhile. He was all she had .and she could not bear the thought of losing him to another woman. 'The tenderest brown eyes, Mother, and a perfect skin! You know the kind that's creamy and translucent, like alabaster? Her hair's a dream—long and thick and the glorious colour of russet-brown. It curls up at the end, and there's a pretty little half fringe on her forehead. And her figure —well, Venus had nothing on her, I can tell you!' 'She sounds,' said his mother sarcastically, 'too perfect to be real.' 'Perfect, certainly! And real... oh, so very real and warm, and she's the delightful age of eighteen!' Well, thought Mrs Woodridge as she watched Lena moving about in the kitchen, she was almost twenty- six now, and if she didn't decide to marry Stephen she could find herself on the shelf. As she returned with the tray Lena noticed her mother-in-law's expression. She appeared to be lost in her own dark reflections; her dry thin lips were twisted in the vestige of a smile. She was deep, thought Lena, deep and unfathomable ... and very lonely. She never tried to brighten her life, never had a hair-do or bought something really exciting to wear. She never went out, or joined in any of the various social activities that went on on the estate. 'Cream or just milk, Mother?' 'Black, please, dear.' She glanced up, to regard her daughter-in-law hopefully from under sparse, dull- gold eyelashes. 'You'll think about Stephen's offer, won't you?'

Lena nodded. 'Of course I will.' 'Do you think—? But I know what you'll decide. You're in love with him and that's all there is to it,' she declared confidently. 'Perhaps I am, but I'm not quite the fool you think I am!' Lena was stung to respond.

Mrs Woodridge called two days later, in the evening, when she knew Lena would have finished her meal. 'I couldn't wait any longer, dear. What have you decided?'Lena paused before answering. She had thought of nothing else for the past two days and although she had some doubts as to the wisdom of even contemplating a reunion, she could not forget that she still loved her ex-husband. One moment everything seemed rosy with a happy future ahead. She could forgive; time would surely help her to forget. Stephen had always been so loving and she felt he would be the same again. The next moment everything would look black because always in her heart she would feel the pain he had caused her, and she had no hesitation in making her decision: she would not even consider returning to him; it was too risky, since she would be continually remembering that he had let her down, preferring another woman to his wife, the wife he had once adored. And so it had gone on, her decision changing almost hourly. And with these changes came fear ... fear that her heart would win, that she would run blindly into Stephen's arms, so glad to be there that the future and what it might bring could take care of itself. It was now that mattered, she might decide ... live for the present, live and love only for today.

In the end, though, she had moved out of this clouded unsure state of mind into one of rational calm, where one course stood out, clear and decisive, and wise. She would go out to Australia on a visit, making no promises, giving Stephen neither answer to his plea nor even the hint of a false hope which could, if dashed, cause him disappointment and pain. She told her mother-in-law of her decision, watching her changing expression, aware of her rising disappointment as she listened to what Lena had to say. 'But, Lena dear,' she whined, 'you can't do that! He'll think you're intending to marry him and yet you might in the end decide not to.' 'You were very sure that I would marry him,' Lena gently reminded her. 'Because I know you're in love with him, that's why. I still feel sure--' She trailed off, confused. 'You're not quite sure, are you, Mother?' said Lena in the same gentle tones. 'You want me to make Stephen a firm promise even before I go out there. Well, I'm sorry, but I can't go to Australia with the firm intention of marrying Stephen—just like that! For one thing, we're strangers again; we've not seen one another for over four years--' 'Strangers! When you've been man and wife?' 'My decision's made,' said Lena inexorably, 'and nothing you can say will alter it. I'll visit Stephen as a friend—if that's possible, because obviously I can't stay in his bungalow with him. We'll go about together, getting to know one another all over again.' She was pale, and rather shaky inside. It was too coldly clinical, this way of talking.

Their love had been so warm and sweet, intimately fulfilling, and now they were to meet as friends-Sadly she looked at the woman sitting there, his mother, who was far from happy, scared as she was that everything might not go right for her son. So much unhappiness for all of them! Tears gathered in Lena's eyes, but she held them back; she had had a good deal of practice in controlling her emotions. But once her mother-in-law had gone she was weeping, for what had been, for what might have been but for the intrusion of Rowena into their lives; but most of all she wept for what was to come, when she and Stephen would meet, awkwardly and with embarrassment, just as if they had never been intimately close. So close that they had become one being--

Lena's boss was wonderful when she told him of her projected trip to Australia. She gave him the reason, as he had known from the beginning about the divorce. 'Then you must go, Lena,' he said. 'I shall hate being without you, but I can draw on our pool. Happiness is the most important thing in life and if marrying your ex-husband will make you happy, then by all means marry him.' She smiled, but wanly. 'As I said, Mr Pearson, I'm merely going on a visit. I shall make up my mind later. It's a difficult decision and I must give myself time.' 'Rightly so,' he agreed. 'Keep in touch, and if you do decide to come back your job will be waiting for you. If on the other hand you decide to stay, I shall understand.'

'You're very kind,' she said huskily. 'I shall certainly keep in touch, Mr Pearson.' A fortnight later she was on the plane, having worked for just over a week until the replacement became available from the reserve pool. She had done some shopping after listing carefully what was necessary. She knew the days would be hot out there, in the centre of a continent, so she bought several plain cotton dresses, loose-fitting and cool; she had bought light underwear, a couple of sun-suits, some sandals and a pair of strong walking shoes. For the evenings she already had two pretty dresses; she bought one more, in lime-green chiffon with a full- flowing skirt, tight bodice and halter neckline. Two long skirts in cotton, one printed and the other plain blue with a trimming of white braid around the hem, and two evening blouses, completed her requirements for any functions she might be attending at night. She already had evening shoes, so was spared the expense of buying those. However, the trip was making alarming inroads into her savings and she had had to be exceedingly careful in choosing her purchases. Stephen had said he would forward on the money for the fare, but it did not arrive in time. She hoped he would reimburse her when she got there because she would need some money to carry on with while she was making up her mind about their future together. Her mother-in-law had suggested she let the flat, but there seemed to be something too final in such an action. Lena wanted to be in a position to come home if the desire should happen to come to her. 'I'll look after it for you, then,'-offered Mrs Woodridge. 'You'll need the heat to be put on for a few hours a day soon.' Lena hadn't liked the idea of handing over the key of her home, but she had not been able to find any excuse for refusing her mother-in-law's offer. She was thinking about her as she rested in her seat on the plane, having tried to get some sleep and then having

abandoned the idea, for a baby had cried consistently since the great jet took off from London. Lena felt sorry for the child, and for its mother, but she also felt sorry for herself, and all the other passengers who were having to endure the shrieks, which at times seemed to come from deep down in the baby's stomach. Surely, she thought, the airline companies could provide a few soundproof cubicles for times like these. At the last minute before she came away Lena was hearing Mrs Woodridge express the wish that she were accompanying her, and even suggested that Lena should see if there was a vacant seat on her plane. However, to her relief Mrs Woodridge decided against it, saying it would be far too expensive anyway. Lena breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted to see Stephen alone, hoping there would be ample opportunity for talking, for regaining that comradeship and intimacy that had seemed such a natural part of their lives during the first three years of their marriage. Memories.... They surged in all the time, and Lena wished she could find relief in sleep. How wonderful it must be to travel first class, where one could be sure of quietness and comfort. It was such a long flight, too, and then there would be a long train journey through the Great Divide, through a region of brigalow scrub, then acacias and after that the temperate grasslands. She was to be met by a big overlanding car which was being sent by Ralph Douglas, as Stephen could not be spared at this time, owing to the mustering and branding of the young cattle. Stephen had told Lena this in a hurriedly-sent letter which reached her just in time. From it she derived the message that it was better that they should meet later, not on a railway station. A plane would have come for her, Stephen said, but Ralph Douglas had to go into town, which was two hundred miles from his homestead, so he was using the aeroplane himself. A man called Chuck was driving the car, but he had with him a girl with auburn hair and bright green jeans which fitted so tightly that it was a wonder they did not split. She looked to be about twenty-five, estimated Lena; she was slender, like Lena, and had the kind of face

that seemed never to have been serious since the day it entered the world. She looked Lena up and down with eyes that laughed even while they examined; there was a grin on her lips as she said, 'Hi! So you made it! One hell of a journey! You must be jiggered! I'm Georgina, but everyone calls me Copper--' She tugged at a few strands of hair. 'Self-explanatory—the nickname, I mean. You're Lena, and this is Chuck. We've heard all about you from Steve--' 'All?' echoed Lena before she could stop herself. 'All?' 'All he thought we ought to know,' Copper returned, looking at her curiously. 'He said you and he had been friends before he decided to come out here to work, and that he'd asked you to come here, hoping you'd like the Outback and perhaps decide to stay.' 'I see--' Friends-- Well, that was what she wanted. It was as good an explanation as any. If she did decide to remarry Stephen there would be no further explaining to do. It had been a reluctant decision when she had reverted to her maiden name, but she was glad now. She would be known as Miss Lena Grafton and not as Mrs Lena Woodridge. As Chuck was putting her luggage in the car Lena noticed the water bags fixed to the bumpers and remembered that Mrs Woodridge had mentioned that she would be sleeping under canvas on the night of the one and a half days' journey through the Australian bush to the great station of Coolibah Creek, which was situated in the Northern Territory. Chuck was a tall, lanky Australian with a slow and quiet way of speaking. But he did not speak much at all, Lena soon noticed, and

she rather thought that was because he could not get a word in anyway, since his vivacious companion left him no opportunity for doing so. Still, he appeared to be happy just driving, which he did both with speed and safety. 'Did you have a good flight?' Copper asked, and Lena told her about the baby. 'Ugh! That must have been awful! Can't abide kids until they reach the age when you can wallop them if they cry.' A pause, but only a fleeting one, and then. 'Tell me about your friendship with Steve. We all like him a lot and were delighted when he said he had a girl-friend. Men don't have much chance of meeting girls out here and Steve's far too nice to remain a bachelor. I hope you'll like our country, Lena, and stay.' She's taken a liking to me, decided Lena, feeling light and happy. Copper was straight, outspoken, sincere. You could see sincerity in her frank open expression, could detect it in her voice. 'There isn't much to tell about our friendship.' Lena sighed as she spoke, experiencing a tinge of guilt and wondering what she would feel like if ever Copper learned that she was Stephen's ex-wife. 'As a matter of fact, we'll be meeting almost as strangers.' She stopped, then added unconsciously, 'I think.' 'You're not sure?' Both girls were in the back of the car and Copper turned her head to slant Lena a curious glance. 'It wasn't a lover's quarrel, was it— and he got the huff and came out here to forget? Then you began writing to one another and now there's to be a grand reconciliation?' Lena's heart caught. She hoped she sounded amused as she answered with a light laugh, 'You've a romantic turn of mind, Copper.'

'Think I ought to mind my own business? Sorry, Lena. Chuck, why have you slowed down? You're driving as if you've got your foot on the brake.' 'Sarcastic so-and-so! I didn't know I had slowed down—wasn't intentional.' 'Chuck's our rouseabout,' explained Copper. 'He came to Coolibah Creek one wild rainstormy night and decided to stay. They do that in the Outback, you know. Just dump themselves and hope for the best.' 'For your information, the Boss was glad I came. I got the lights working, and I mended a leak in one of the bathrooms. I repaired the station wagon, then made all those bookshelves for the school.' He lapsed into silence abruptly, as if so much talk had exhausted him. Copper laughed and touched his dark curly hair with her forefinger. 'You brag too much, Chuck. By the way, you've a great load of grey hairs—here, at your temple.' 'Not a great load; one or two. I was fifty-six last week.' 'Oh, lord! Well, you'll have to have one of those belated birthday cards—if they have any in the .shop, that is.' 'The Boss gave me a nice little cheque.' 'It wouldn't be so little, not if I know him. The most generous grazier in the Outback, is Ralph Douglas.' She turned to Lena, her eyes suddenly dancing. 'He'll scare the daylights out of you the first time you meet him. He's a giant for one thing and he'll tower over you. But what'll scare you is his way— he's a stern-looking man, formidable. Has no time for trivialities—down to earth, he is, and if ever you displease him you'll know about it.'

Lena grimaced to herself. She decided here and now not to have anything more to do with the Boss of Coolibah Creek than was absolutely necessary. She wondered who Copper was and after a moment's hesitation she ventured to ask if she were a relative of Ralph Douglas. 'No,' put in Chuck slowly, 'she's another who just arrived and decided to stay.' 'Fibber! I applied for the post of companion-cum- dogsbody to my cousin ten times removed, one Mrs Mary Sophia Douglas, but I've ended up as a general help in the house.' 'She just messes about,' threw in Chuck scornfully. 'A day's real work'd kill her.' 'You rotton so-and-so! Who cooks your breakfast in the mornings?' 'Granted you potter around the kitchen flashing a wooden spoon about, or trip over to the stove and take a sniff at what's cooking, but it's the lubras who do all the work.' 'Prissy and Mag are our two lubras,' Copper informed Lena. 'They're coloureds.' 'Do they do all the housework as well as cook?' 'Of course. They've been getting a room ready for you. I chose one that looks on to the distant mountains—the MacDonnell Ranges. I thought you'd like that. You've the front garden as well, and one special gum tree where a couple of jackos laugh their heads off at dawn every morning. Hope they won't annoy you, but if they do you can move to the opposite side of the house.' 'Jackos? What are they?'

'Kookaburras, or laughing jackasses—hence the name, jackos. You must have seen them in the zoo?' 'Yes, I expect I have.' Lena was becoming excited. This was the promise of things new, things that would make life more interesting than it had been for the past few years. She had told Stephen that she could not live in his bungalow; his reply had been that Ralph Douglas had offered to have her as his guest. Lena was soon to learn that any traveller through the bush would be sure of a welcome if he stopped at a homestead and asked for a night's lodging. 'It was kind of you to choose a room with a lovely view like that.' Turning, she smiled at Copper, saw the wry expression that had come to her freckled face. 'Don't get any ideas about marvellous views, Lena. Yes, we do have the mountains, and the garden, but in between—just miles and miles of uninteresting grasslands where thousands upon thousands of cattle graze. It's monotonous country on the whole, I'm afraid.' 'But you like it?' Lena guessed at once that the question was superfluous. 'I love it. There's something hauntingly beautiful about the vast space, the loneliness, the deep silence. One gets used to it in time, and I feel that you will, Lena.' 'I don't know--'It was not that she doubted her own adaptability, but she was unsure of the situation between Stephen and herself. This visit would either see her returning to England after saying goodbye to him for good, or marrying him and becoming part of this vast establishment to which Chuck and Copper belonged. There was of course the possibility that, if she did agree to marry Stephen, he would want to return to England. But the very thought of attempting to create another home caused her to feel depressed. Everything had increased in price since they had bought their

bungalow and furnished it. She still had the major part of her money, but even if Stephen still had his—which Lena very much doubted, as she knew that he and Rowena were really 'living it up' while he was waiting for the divorce—the two sums combined would not buy a house at present day prices. No. she felt that they ought to stay here in Australia where Stephen had a job and a house. She might be able to work at the homestead, or find a job in one of the shops on the estate. These thoughts were filtering through her mind when she heard Chuck consulting Copper about making camp for the night. 'Can we get as far as Hunter's Spring?' Copper wanted to know, glancing at the clock on the dash. 'The sun's going down already, but we have about twenty minutes—or perhaps a little more—of twilight, and if we get off the Bitumen at Friends' Corner we should do it. Make for the shelter of the trees--' 'You don't need to tell me where to camp,' broke in Chuck, disgruntled. 'I'm not exactly a novice at it.' Copper grimaced and put her tongue out at his back but said nothing. He soon turned off the main road and a few minutes later the car crunched to a halt beneath the trees. The sun was almost below the horizon and the sky was dappled with saffron and flame and swirling skeins of delicate bronze. Paler, cooler colours encroached and the fiery hues began to die. Gentle mauves and lilacs, and soft green and delicate pink. Lena stood beside the car, enthralled, speechless with wonderment. Darkness fell swiftly, following on the duns and greys that had already vanquished the mauves and greens and pinks. Stars intruded shyly into the deep purple vault of the heavens, then brightened to glowing silver-millions of them above the silent wilderness. The whole aspect was savage and splendid and Lena's senses quivered, affected as never before in the whole of her life. This magnificent moment was indelibly etched into her memory—a

moment when in the hush of night's beginnings she was witnessing a spectacle that left her breathless with wonderment and awe.

CHAPTER TWO THE Coolibah Creek homestead came into view about mid-afternoon the following day. Lena was surprised to see a Georgian mansion, austere, symmetrical, its starkness effectively softened by the various climbing plants that almost covered the walls. The facade looked on to a garden and extensive grounds—from what Lena could make out from this distance. She saw a colony of buildings which soon took shape as bungalows occupied by the stockmen and their families, the school and hospital, and the shops. An airstrip shone white in the brittle afternoon sunshine; it lay to the west of the homestead and some distance from it. 'It's like coming upon a village!' she exclaimed, her emotions stirred in some strange indefinable way, for it was not Stephen's handsome face that occupied her mind at all, but the idea of the experience of living a totally different life from that to which she had been accustomed. She felt she was embarking on an exciting adventure, where the outcome was unpredictable but not unsatisfactory. 'And the house—the homestead—it's so large! I hadn't expected it to be so elegant, either—at least, not from the outside.' Copper laughed. 'You expected a long, low rambling building with a tin roof, eh? A place added to by each generation so that there would be a whole lot if higgledy-piggledy boxes joined together by roofs which were all of different levels.' It was Lena's turn to laugh. 'Not quite as primitive as that,' she contradicted. 'But all this—' She swept a hand appreciatively. 'It's really something! It reminds you of the London houses, and of the aristocracy who used to occupy them.'

'Well, we do have our aristocracy here, among the graziers. Were known as the squatocracy, though, and I'm afraid we're awful snobs about our respective positions in the hierarchy of wealth, which means, of course, land. The Boss owns eight thousand square miles and is negotiating for another two. Philip Grady of Faraway Downs owns around five thousand square miles; there's Richard Wells who owns Buffalo Heights and seven thousand square miles. These are the graziers who have long since formed their own exclusive set. You'll soon discover that the Boss is very conscious of his position in this set, and his grandmother's the same.' 'It sounds fascinating. I feel I'm going to enjoy this new experience.' They were closer now and the colour in the garden flared in the sunshine, the flowers and trees forming a beautiful setting for the homestead with its fluted columns and white marble steps, its ivied walls, mellow and inviting and looking cool in the shadows cast by the enormous trees towering to the south-west of its facade. It was strange, reflected Lena, but even now it was not Stephen who dominated her thoughts; he might not have existed in this adventure, might never have been the reason for her coming here. He was nebulous, and her lack of emotion troubled her after a while, for it seemed as if, having travelled all this way, she was now vague about the reason for being here at all! Perhaps, she thought, attempting to find an explanation for the way she was feeling, some inbuilt medicatrix of composure had taken over, since it was strange indeed that she was not suffering from nervous tension, apprehensive and uneasy about the forthcoming meeting with her ex-husband. Chuck had entered an avenue of casuarina trees, long and winding and at the end of which stood the homestead, regal and attractive in spite of its austerity.

Lena quickly followed Copper from the car, while Chuck eased his long body from the driver's seat and clicked the door shut. He looked at Lena, faintly amused by her avid interest as she gazed all around, taking in details of the lovely landscaped gardens in the immediate vicinity of the house. Pink and mauve bougainyillaeas climbed trellises and walls and the strong wooden supports of the verandahs; there were beds of roses, masses of blue plumbago, and beds of pink freesias. Golden irises flourished beneath a brilliant flame tree, while a massive magnolia sported its creamy wax-like flowers in contrast to the coral-pink blossoms of the cassia tree above and to one side of it. On the velvet-smooth lawn a sprinkler was working, and two Aborigines were busy at the far end, employed on a border which they were weeding. To the east of the garden was a small wooded area, with palms waving in the breeze, and forming a frame for the other trees in the copse—the casuarinas and eucalypts, the sandalwoods and pines. From the distance a horse and rider caught Lena's attention and she stared, fascinated, thrilled by the spectacular sight. Man and horse seemed to be one, their movements in perfect unison, superbly graceful and smooth. The rider, straight-backed and obviously much taller than average, held the reins almost carelessly, yet his confidence could be sensed even over this distance. He lifted a hand in casual salute; Chuck and Copper returned it. 'That's the Boss,' Copper informed her. 'He's coming to meet you.' Chuck was at the back of the car, taking out Lena's luggage; a half-caste woman appeared at the front door and was handed the two suitcases. She went away, having noticed the rider and knowing that Copper would be introducing the new guest to her host before she was taken to her room. He swung from the saddle with one effortless movement. A man came up to take the bridle and the horse was led away to a stubble paddock. Ralph Douglas strode across the edge of the lawn towards where Copper and Lena were standing, on the forecourt, Chuck

having got into the car with the intention of driving it away. Ralph Douglas nodded as it moved, then gave his full attention to Lena, extending a lean brown hand as Copper made the introductions. 'How do you do, Miss Grafton.' His voice was faintly clipped, but softened by the typical Outback drawl. 'I hope you had a pleasant journey?' 'Very pleasant, thank you, Mr Douglas.' She tilted her head right back to look into the face of the slow- spoken, sun-bitten giant with the burnt-ochre skin, the alert blue eyes and the hard uncompromising features. Dressed in belted denims, an open-necked check shirt and tough leather boots and a slouch hat, he looked every inch a man of the wide outdoors, a man inured to the scorching sun, the droughts and other rigours of life in the Never-Never—the centre of the vast continent. Tough and rugged, there was yet an arrogance about him, an aristocratic manner and an easy air of authority which made Lena feel inferior. She was faintly angry to find that the man cid scare her, just as Copper had warned. She had little difficulty in seeing him as the feudal overlord, ruling his vassals and never allowing them to forget who was master. He pushed his slouch hat to the back of his head and she saw the mid-brown hair, bleached at the front and greying at the temples. He was well on the wrong side of thirty, estimated Lena, taking in the lines of maturity on his face, and the little fan lines at his temples, developed because of the continual narrowing of his eyes against the fierce Australian sun. A truly formidable man, who would have little time or tolerance for the weaknesses of others. She recalled Mrs Woodridge's assertion that Stephen was well thought of by his boss, which meant that he must be good indeed, a loyal and conscientious worker, for Lena decided here and now that only the very best would be good enough for a man of Ralph Douglas's calibre. 'We're happy to have you here with us, Miss Grafton.' Polite and gracious words but somehow lacking any real depth. Lena felt that it

mattered not one jot to Ralph Douglas whether she were here or not. Perhaps, she mused, he preferred his stockmen to remain single. They would have no diversions then, nothing to take their minds off their work. A tinge of resentment rose within her but, remembering that she was a guest in his house, she contrived a smile as she said demurely, 'Thank you very much, Mr Douglas. It was kind of you to have me in your home.' The blue eyes seemed to take on a faintly cynical aspect. 'There was no other place you could go to,' he said matter-of-factly. His eyes were all-examining again and she felt as if he had missed nothing about her ... not even what lay beneath the dress she wore! Colour fused her cheeks and she glanced away, hoping that Copper was not amused by her discomfiture but feeling almost sure that she was. She said, just for something to break the silence, 'If there's anything I can do in return, Mr Douglas, please let me know.' 'Such as?' 'Well ... jobs around the house,' she answered vaguely. To her surprise the hint of a smile touched the fine outline of his mouth, tilting it at one side in the most attractive way. 'You don't know what you might be letting yourself in for, Miss Grafton,' he said, amused. 'We shall probably find a dozen ways in which we can use you.' Copper laughed, but Ralph's face reverted to its impassive expression.

'Stephen won't be around until dinner time,' he told Lena, adding that he had had to go over to the far pastures. 'I've invited him to dinner, here with us.' 'You're very kind.' She did not think she would feel at ease, meeting Stephen here, at dinner. She would have preferred to be alone with him at first, as there was so much to say. But of course Ralph Douglas was ignorant of the fact that there had been anything between them other than the friendship Stephen had mentioned. 'Not at all,' he returned in his quiet unhurried voice. 'It was the natural thing to do.' Suddenly he was paying only scant attention to her; his blue eyes looked through and beyond her to the mob of Droughtmaster cattle grazing in the sunlit bushlands where hummocks of spinifex spread away to infinity, lost on every horizon. Copper, noticing his abstraction, grimaced and said briskly, 'Come on, Lena, and I'll show you your room.' It was a delightful apartment with a deep purple fitted carpet and soft velvet drapes to match. The furniture was in white wood, modern, but blending perfectly with the Regency influence of high ceiling, deep skirtings and tall windows. The room had obviously had care in its planning and decor, and Lena fell to wondering if Mrs Douglas had designed it. 'There's a bathroom off,' said Copper, flinging wide the door. 'It was once a dressing-room. Mine's the same—bath and shower and everything else. I'll leave you to settle in. The bell's there, near the bed; don't hesitate to ring it if you want anything. One of the lubras will, come.' She paused, smiling. 'Shall we see you at tea time?' 'You have afternoon tea?' Copper nodded.

'Always. The men don't come in regularly, though, only if they happen to be around. The Boss'll be here for tea today. He's been working on his accounts and he mentioned the other day that he's spending an hour or two every afternoon on them, so he'll be coming to his study later. Tea's served at four o'clock on the verandah.' She was at the door, her hand on the shining brass knob. 'Don't worry if you don't feel like coming. You might feel like a nap instead?' Lena smiled at that and stated quite .firmly that she was not in the least tired; she had slept soundly throughout last night, a circumstance that amazed her because, sleeping for the first time under canvas,she had naturally not expected to get much rest at all. 'I'll join you for tea,' she said. 'You'll meet her ladyship, then.' 'Her ladyship?' Copper produced one of her wry grins. 'Mrs Douglas. An autocrat if ever there was one! But enough! I really must let you get on with your unpacking. Four o'clock! Don't be late—the Boss'll subject you to one of his crushing looks if you are!' The door closed softly behind Copper and Lena moved over to the window. The plains ... so vast, rolling away ... to where? The mountains in the far distance ... not very high. This continent was so old that it couldn't possibly have high mountains; they had been worn away over eons and eons of time by the forces of nature, and the sediments had been carried to the sea in rivers that once used to rampage through the land, rivers that were now dried up and useless except in the Wet, when they again rampaged, but only for a short while. She continued to stare, feeling the isolation in spite of the cattle out there, and the stockmen moving about among them. The dry

creek bed ran through the grounds of the Coolibah Creek homestead, its meandering course marked by the coolibah trees following its banks on both sides. Where was Stephen? Not among those men out there, because Ralph Douglas had said that he was in the far pastures. But perhaps those were the far pastures; distance was difficult to estimate in this brittle atmosphere. She was just turning away when a flock of pink and grey galahs flew across the grounds and settled in the trees by the creek, their shrill unmusical cries echoing right into the room. Lena was fascinated, for here was something else that was new and strange and interesting. At five minutes to four she was ready, looking cool and fresh in one of the cotton dresses she had brought with her. She made her way to the verandah, to find Mrs Douglas sitting there, erect and stately, with the same cornelian blue eyes as her grandson, and beautiful snow-white hair. There was no one to introduce them, much to Lena's dismay, and she was wishing she could turn and escape from the cold impersonal scrutiny to which she was being subjected. She felt rather like some despised menial awaiting the word of her exalted superior. The woman spoke at last and although her tone and the content of her greeting were graciously polite, her face did not break into a smile. Lena concluded there and then that she was haughty, profoundly conscious of her own importance and status in the aristocracy of the Outback. Copper arrived, much to Lena's relief, and spoke a few words that constituted a belated introduction. A short while later, when they were having tea and Mrs Douglas was in earnest conversation with her grandson, Copper said softly into Lena's ear,

'You don't like her?' 'Perhaps she doesn't like me. I sensed a dislike instantly we looked at one another.' Copper nodded thoughtfully. 'She reminds me of a waxen queen at times—and this is one of those times.' 'She's over eighty, I think you said?' 'Yes, and good for another twenty years yet—un- Jess something unforeseen happens, that is.' Copper went on to tell Lena how she had run the station expertly after the death of her husband, hoping to hand it over to her son, Ralph's father. But he died just as she was about to do so and she had to carry on until Ralph was old enough to accept the responsibility of such a vast estate. 'She's had a sad life,' mused Lena, her eyes shadowing as she transferred her gaze to the woman they were talking about. Rigidly erect, she was sipping her tea from a fine china cup and listening intently to what Ralph was saying. 'How old was her son when he died?' 'Twenty-four, and Ralph was only a year and a bit. She'd wanted to hand over when her son got married, but he seemed too young and immature and she decided to wait a little while longer. She never liked his wife—Ralph's mother—and she gave her to understand that she would never be the mistress here while she, Mary, lived. So it was only to be expected that Ralph's mother would feel resentful, and as soon as Ralph took over she left and went to live with her sister in Sydney. She's married again now, to a Sydney businessman.'

Lena allowed her eyes to stray to Ralph Douglas, wondering how he had felt at this attitude of the old woman towards his mother. He appeared to be friendly enough, and patient with his grandmother, but Lena suspected that there was no love lost between the two people who both were obviously assertive and autocratic. He became aware of her interest and turned his head, disconcerting her for a few seconds as he looked enquiringly at her. However, all he said was, 'You find your room to your liking, Miss Grafton?' 'Yes, thank you, Mr Douglas. It's lovely. I hadn't expected such luxury.' She felt shy, inadequate, not only because of the superiority of the man she was talking to, but also because of his grandmother's narrowed stare which was, to say the least, not at all friendly. When tea was over Copper took Lena outside, showing her the grounds, the swimming-pool and the shady courtyard behind the homestead. She told her a little more about life on. a vast station like Coolibah Creek, and she told her a little about the Boss himself. 'He's thirty-four, and a stickler for perfection where his employees are concerned. He has no time for slackers, or for anyone who, for instance, acts without consulting him first. He's the Boss, and as long as we all remember it we're okay. You saw the best of him today; he isn't always as polite as that. Cross him and you'll squirm for days after he's lashed you with that cutting tongue of his. Believe me, Lena, he doesn't care a damn how much he disconcerts you if he does find it necessary to give you a telling off.' 'He sounds awful,' murmured Lena, half wishing she were not compelled to stay here. 'I hope I never get on the wrong side of him,' she added with an involuntary shudder.

Copper laughed, but when she spoke again her tone was serious, with a warning note coming through as she said, 'For God's sake, Lena, never venture far from the homestead on your own. If you should get lost the Boss'd do his block! We had a young home help once who thought she knew it all and just laughed when I warned her not to keep wandering off, losing sight of the homestead. Well, she wouldn't listen and the inevitable happened: she got lost in the bush. We had to organise search parties; every station owner for miles around was out with his men, searching for her, and although the girl was half dead with thirst and exposure to the sun when we eventually found her forty-eight hours later, the Boss did no more than set about her and box her-ears. He sent her packing, and in quick time.' Copper paused and grinned. 'You won't be doing anything so foolish, though.' 'No, I won't,' agreed Lena fervently. 'I'm glad you've warned me, though, because I do want to take some walks and I might unconsciously have wandered away until I lost sight of the house.' Copper merely nodded and they sauntered on again, making for the narrow road along which were situated the bungalows and shops. 'It's a town, almost,' observed Lena, glancing around. 'Are all the big cattle stations like this?' 'Yes, they have to be. You have to have amenities, otherwise you'd not get men to settle with their families.' 'Is there any entertainment?' Lena was recalling something her mother-in-law had said about shed dances and horse-racing being among the pastimes pf the Outback population. 'We make our own,' answered Copper matter-of- factly. 'It's great fun when we have a shed dance or gymkhana or a race-meeting. We

arrange barbecues and film shows, and have a party for practically any occasion that provides us with an excuse.' 'It sounds great! Oh, I'm really looking forward to my stay here!' Only after this enthusiastic exclamation did Lena realise that Stephen had not even entered her thoughts. 'Do you ride, Lena?' Copper wanted to know, glancing sideways at her. 'I used to when I was a child, but I haven't done any riding for years.' 'I'll ask the Boss if you can have a horse—if you'd like one, that is?' Copper swung her head to smile at her. 'You really need to ride in country like this.' 'Yes, I can see the advantage.' Lena's eyes travelled over the vast plains to where the outline of the mountains splayed the horizon. She saw the Abo horsemen by a waterhole, proud dauntless natives who had made their homes on this vast estate. Without the horse life here could never exist in its present form. 'Will he let me have one, do you think?' 'Of course; we've got plenty. We catch a few each year from a mob of brumbies and break them.' 'Brumbies?' 'Wild horses; we've lots of them here.' Copper continued with her explaining, and as Lena was an avid listener she absorbed a great deal in a short space of time. 'You can see some of our stockriders over there.' Copper swung a hand and Lena's eyes returned to the Abos she had noticed before. 'That's a bore- trough they're standing around. We get our water from

below—from the life-giving underground basin —but probably you know that already?' 'Yes, I read it somewhere.' Lena's gaze was still fixed on those natives of this silent country, their figures starkly outlined against a granite outcrop mottled by the sun's rays filtering a low cloud—a woolpack—that had gathered within the last few minutes. To the north she detected the shape of a billabong, and the meandering line of the river from which it had been cut, as both were bordered by casuarinas and red river gums. The spiky spinifex was everywhere, the region it occupied being relieved only by the plutonic outcrops and a few clusters of sandstone boulders which had probably been left by the river in the dim distant past when its volume was far greater than today when, for the most part, it was dry. Here and there along its banks were seen a few ghost- gums and wilgas, the latter having pretty drooping branches that were useful as well as decorative since they could provide fodder and so in some areas they were properly cultivated for that specific purpose. 'Why are the men at the bore-trough?' asked Lena interestedly. 'Aren't they usually moving about among the cattle?' 'They've stopped for smoke-oh--' Copper broke off, laughing at her companion's blank expression. 'Smoke-oh's the break the men have morning and afternoon when they drink billy tea and eat damper, sometimes. Those men, though, have chunks of meat in their packs which they collected from the kitchen this morning.' 'They live in at the homestead?' 'Not all of them. But the men living in the bungalows come in before they go off in a morning, and collect what they need in the way of eats.' Copper paused a moment. 'Many of them live alone because women aren't all that partial to settling here, in the heart of the Australian Outback, with no fun and shops and cinema lights. You

have to be tough, and the, women who do settle here are a very special brand. I'm one myself, as you've gathered. I couldn't live anywhere else, so it seems that I'm to be a spinster all my life.' She grinned ruefully before adding, 'Mind you, I'd think twice about marrying anyone like the Boss, for instance, because he and his kind consider women to be necessary for the procreation of the race but superfluous as regards much else. They're useful in the kitchen, of course, although the wife of anyone like Ralph wouldn't be expected to demean herself with domestic chores.' 'You mean,' said Lena with a frown, 'that they don't think much about love?' 'They don't think anything about it. Take the Boss, now : he's friendly with a girl from Pine Lodge, the station owned by Jed Watkins, and although it's on the cards that he'll marry her eventually, you couldn't by any stretch of imagination believe they're in love.' 'He'll marry her, and yet he doesn't love her?' Lena shook her head in disbelief. 'Surely Australian men aren't all that different from other men,' she added reasonably. 'They seem to be. I suppose there are exceptions. But their whole lives are tied up with their lands and cattle and their prestige as members of the squatocracy.' 'You're talking only of the station owners, not of Australian men in general?' 'Of course. But it was the cattle ranchers we were discussing, men like Ralph who neither need nor want the distractions of love in their lives.'

'This girl,' said Lena after a thoughtful pause. 'Is she the daughter of the owner of Pine Lodge?' 'Yes, Corinne Watkins, heiress to around six thousand square miles of this territory, and as Pine Lodge land adjoins that of Coolibah Creek you. don't require much imagination to see why the match is bound to come off.' There was a strange undertone of regret in Copper's voice which set Lena wondering if she did not like this Corinne Watkins and was wondering if she would stay on if and when the Boss married her and brought her to his home. 'Ralph Douglas doesn't strike me as the kind of man who would put money first when it comes to such an important thing as marriage,' she ventured at last, and Copper tilted her head sideways to send her a searching glance. 'Have you found him attractive?' she laughed. 'All the home helps have fallen for him, hence the reason why we haven't one at present. Mary absolutely refuses to sit and watch "idiotic creatures ogling you, Ralph, so you needn't employ any more * while I'm alive!" And so we manage with the lubras, and I do my share, despite the opinion Chuck has of me.' Lena coloured at what appeared to be an implication in Copper's words and she said with a touch of indignation, 'I haven't fallen for him, Copper. It was just that the impression I gained was of a man whose ideals would be far above the consideration of money— where marriage is concerned, I mean.' 'Don't kid yourself! He's no different from any of the other ranchers when it comes to adding to his estate. If he doesn't get the Watkins land then someone else will, and the Boss'll never have that crucial fact far from his mind.' Copper paused and when she resumed there was a note of apology in her voice. 'As for what I said about you

liking him—I didn't mean it quite the way you took it, Lena. I know you haven't fallen for him. You've got Stephen, anyway, and in my opinion you couldn't have anyone nicer.' Lena said thoughtfully, 'I don't want you to assume that Stephen and I are thinking of getting married. Copper.' 'But you have come here to see if you like it, haven't you?' Lena gave a small sigh. It seemed so vitally important that people should not get the wrong impression, not take anything for granted where she and Stephen were concerned. 'It's very much in the experimental stage,' she said in a troubled tone. 'I've no intention of making a hurried decision.' Copper fell silent and for an anxious moment Lena thought that the girl felt she had been snubbed. But to her relief she was as friendly as ever when, as they reached the shops, she began pointing out the various commodities that could be bought. 'There's not the choice you'll have in Nulladeri, but it's amazing what you can get here.' 'Nulladeri? Is that a town?' 'Yes, our nearest. It's two hundred miles away, but we usually go by air.' 'Shall I go, then?' 'If the Boss has a need to go he usually asks if anyone wants to be taken along with him. The aeroplane's a four-seater, so I usually go, and perhaps one of the stockmen who has a day off or, more usually, one of their wives.'

Lena's eyes were drawn to one of the bungalows where, in the neat and colourful garden, a pram rocked precariously as if its occupant were more than a little boisterous. Following the direction of her gaze. Copper let out a laugh. 'Young Paul MacBane,' she elucidated. 'Only nine months old but already a wrecker! As tough and rough as they come! A real pest to his mother, but an adorable one for all that. Let's go over and take a look at him. I'll bet you anything you like that he's face down in that pram with his bum in the air!'

CHAPTER THREE COPPER'S prediction proved to be right. The first thing Lena saw was a rounded moon covered with white towelling. The rest of the body was humped, the head in the pillow, the arms rocking wildly, hence the violent movement of the pram. . 'Come on, young Paul!' Copper went up to the pram and turned him over; he sat up, chuckling loudly, his eyes like little imps, his cheeks like roses. 'What's the idea? Fed up with being secured with these reins, are you? Well, young poppet, it's the only way with anyone like you! Another of the same sort and your parents'll be able to hire out a demolition squad.' His mother appeared at that moment, a tall fair- haired girl, plain of feature but with a charm of manner that was instantly revealed. 'Hello, Copper. You've brought our new recruit, I see. Welcome, Lena--Oh, yes, we all know your name and that you've come to be with Stephen. Happy to make your acquaintance.' Her hand was extended and Lena took it eagerly. 'I'm very happy to meet you--' Lena stopped, turning to Copper. 'Alice,' she said, 'like the town.' They chatted for a while, there in the sunshine, while the baby looked on, fist in mouth, his activities saved for another time, as this was very interesting, he thought, his eyes repeatedly going to the stranger as if he would memorise her features for future reference. It was nearing sundown when at last Copper and Lena returned to the homestead. Vibrant colours dominated the landscape—flame and saffron, fiery crimson and orange. Lena stood for a while on the balcony of her room, savouring the kind of spectacular beauty she had never dreamed of ever witnessing. The deep silence added to the

scene, because nothing moved. No sign of cattle at this side, no horsemen, not even the bending of a branch or stirring of a leaf. The shadows in the garden had grown long and dark by the time she turned to go into her bedroom, and it was then that her eyes focused on the solitary rider— a man and his horse, a proud and beautiful Arab stallion, flying over the plain, every movement smooth, easy, effortless because man and animal were matched in stamina. It was a magnificent sight and one that made Lena gasp with admiration. They were as one—a centaur of incredible speed and skill in covering the distance. She did not know why she should bring legend into it, thinking of Chiron, the wisest of all the centaurs who, deciding he did not want eternal life, gave up his immortality and was placed by Zeus among the stars and given the name of Sagittarius. A star--Something stirred within her, and for no reason at all there was a dryness in her throat. Emotion unexpected and unfathomable was affecting her in some new and rather disturbing way. She tried to shake off the feeling, half turning away. But her eyes were drawn to the spectacle again, irresistibly. She found herself marvelling at the sheer grace and beauty of the picture. Did the man know what a nonpareil he was, riding like that, across the myrtle-green spinifex plains? The honey-light of evening had fallen as she turned at last to go inside. She felt restless, vaguely excited ... and she knew that it had nothing whatever to do with what had been occupying her mind for the past half hour or so—the forthcoming meeting with the man who had once been her husband and lover. Lena asked Copper what she should wear for dinner and was told that Mrs Douglas always insisted on everyone changing. Even the stockmen had to wear something formal and smart.

'A long dress for us,' ended Copper. 'I doubt if we'd be allowed to sit down if we wore anything else.' Lena decided on the lime-green chiffon, liking the fitted bodice and the halter neckline. The flowing skirt flattered her slenderness, and she wore a necklace of silver which went well with the delicate colour of the dress. She stood for a long moment before the mirror, regarding herself critically, recalling that it was four years since her last meeting with Stephen. Would he see much change in her? she wondered, remembering with poignant intensity the first time she met him, when she was eighteen ... in the first bloom of womanhood. Pensively she took up a perfume spray and used it on her hair. Twenty-six— She had always imagined herself with a growing family by the time she was this age. Now it was all a dream, never to come true. Alas for the speedy and fruitless passing of those years that had been lost, both to her and to Stephen. To begin all over again. To set up a home—for even if they decided to remain here there would be heavy expenses in the preparing of the bungalow for their joint occupation. To start a family--Lena closed her eyes tightly, deciding that she did not want Stephen's children, and the next moment reproving herself for the idea. She had come here at his request, to see if there was any chance of their finding happiness together, and she must keep in mind her intention, must try to forget the pain and remember instead that her love for him was still deep. It was with a fast-beating heart that she entered the large, high-ceilinged dining-room. Would Stephen have thought to get there early, so that there would perhaps be a possibility of their initial meeting taking place without witnesses? To her disappointment he was not there, and she stood by the window, restless and agitated, a

trembling sensation in the pit of her stomach. She turned to leave the room and almost bumped into Copper as she reached the door. 'I forgot to tell you,' said Copper apologetically, 'that we always have a sundowner on the verandah. It's a custom by now—to enjoy the cool evening air after the torrid heat of the afternoon.' On the verandah Lena was introduced to Jem, a stockman who, like Chuck, had 'dropped in' one day and stayed. He lived in, having his own bed-sitter at the back of the homestead, close to where the two lubras were accommodated. He was a giant of a man with the kind of strong black hair that made one think he hadn't shaved for a couple of days. His eyes were almost black, his hair sparse and wiry and fairly long at the back. Lena guessed his age at about thirty- eight; he was a bachelor and had never been settled in a job before coming to Coolibah Creek. This latter information came from the man himself soon after Lena sat down next to him at a small table at the end of the verandah. Stephen had not yet arrived, nor had Ralph Douglas, and as Copper was called away by Prissy, Lena was left alone with the big, broad- shouldered stockman. 'You here for a long stay?' he queried in the typical slow Australian drawl which Lena was prepared to hear from Stephen when eventually they met. 'It depends,' she answered non-committally. 'I'll stay if I like it--' She gave an expressive shrug of her shoulders. 'If not, then I shall return to England.' 'I came from England when I was fifteen,' he said. 'It's not a bad country as countries go, but small—too small. I'd get claustrophobia if I went back now.'

'I can easily understand that,' she returned, her eyes penetrating the starless darkness beyond the garden to where the wide rangelands stretched away to infinity. A step behind brought her head around. Ralph Douglas, immaculate in an off-white linen suit and a shirt that was almost the same colour as her dress. She sensed the lean and sinewed hardness of his body beneath the perfectly-cut clothes, was struck by the man's air of authority, by the stamp of hauteur in his finely-etched features and the proud set of his head on broad square shoulders. His eyes, hard and piercing, flashed her a glance as he asked what she would like to drink. It was while he was getting it, from the room behind, that Lena's heart took a sudden plunge as she caught sight of a figure, coming across the lawn-'Stephen--' It was barely a whisper, heard only by herself. She managed a smile through lips that were stiff, aware of a clamminess affecting her forehead and the palms of her hands. Stephen on the other hand was cool, composed, and it irked her to sense a complacency made up of confidence. 'Lena! It's great to see you! And you look lovely in that dress!' The slow drawl came through despite the eagerness of his greeting. She said huskily, 'Thank you, Stephen. It's—it's nice to see you again.' Ralph Douglas had returned with her drink and he stood for a moment, his alert eyes moving from her to Stephen and back again. Stephen sat down next to Lena and began to ask about the journey and if she had been bored with the latter part, driving all that way in the overlanding car. 'I had a very good journey, thank you, Stephen,' she returned with cool politeness. 'And I actually enjoyed the drive in the overlanding

car; it was interesting—something entirely new.' She heard the calm inflection in her voice and marvelled at it because, inside, she was suffering from nerves, the result of this meeting which ought never to have taken place before witnesses. She looked at Stephen and was scarcely able to accept that he had once been her husband. It was not that he looked very different—apart from his bronzed skin and the broadening of his body— but he was a stranger, just as she had known he would be. It seemed impossible that they had been lovers, that they had lived together in harmony, close, intimate, loving and giving and believing in a happy future together ... until death did them part— An unwanted bitterness welled up inside her and she wished with all her heart that she had not come. She knew an urge to fly away, back to her safe little flat, and the routine existence of her job. Mrs Douglas came from the room behind, a tall and stately figure in black satin and lace, her hands and ears adorned with diamonds. 'Good evening, Miss Grafton,' she said with chill politeness. 'Stephen—how are you?' 'Well, thanks, Mrs Douglas. I see you've already met my friend.' The old lady inclined her head as she took possession of the chair which her grandson was holding out for her. 'We met at tea time.' She looked at Ralph. 'I'll have a sherry tonight, I think.' He fetched it for her and then sat down. Chuck arrived, and Copper, bringing her drink with her. Lena felt uncomfortable, conscious of being the only stranger, of the stares of Mrs Douglas and Stephen, neither of whom seemed to take their eyes off her. Stephen appeared to be absorbing things about her that he had never seen before and she

wondered if he were already sorry he had sent for her. She would soon know, she thought, because they would surely take a stroll together after dinner, so that they could talk. 'We have two more stockmen living in,' Ralph told her when there was a lull in the conversation. 'You won't be meeting them yet, Miss Grafton; they're taking a well-deserved holiday in Sydney, with their relatives.' At that moment Mag appeared and announced that dinner was ready. Mrs Douglas frowned and snapped, 'Something wrong with the gong, Mag?' 'Sorry, Mrs Douglas. I forgot.' The blue eyes glittered angrily. 'It's impossible to forget every night!' 'I don't forget every night, Mrs Douglas--' 'Don't argue with me, woman!' rapped out the old lady. 'How many more times have I to remind you to sound the gong?' 'I'm sorry,' mumbled the woman. 'It seems just as easy to come out here—' Her voice faded as from the corner of her eye she saw the expression on Ralph Douglas's face. 'It's ready, Boss,' she said, and made a hasty retreat. Stephen was grinning behind his hand, shooting surreptitious glances at Mrs Douglas and then at Lena. She felt impatient with him, disgusted, considering his behaviour to be immature. What was the matter with her, finding fault like this? She never used to be critical; in fact, everything he did was perfect in her eyes. Where, she wondered bleakly, was the pleasure, the excitement, the quickening

of a pulse that she expected to feel on meeting her ex-husband again? True, she had suspected all along that there would be awkwardness, but subconsciously she had expected to experience some measure of happiness at being with him again, for if she hadn't then she would not be here at all. Sitting opposite to him at dinner she was acutely aware of his admiring glances and the tender smiles that went with them; she heard undertones of tenderness whenever he spoke, whether in conversation or if he should enquire if she wanted something. It brought back so much ... so. very much-'Miss Grafton—more wine?' The quiet attractive voice of her host roused her from her reflections and she was grateful for the interruption, as she had no wish to lose herself in nostalgia. 'Yes, please, Mr Douglas,' she answered. 'I'll have just a little.'--' When she first came into the room she had not been in that particular frame of mind when she could look round and appreciate the fine qualities of the room, but now, as Stephen fell silent and the others were talking among themselves, she let her eyes wander appreciatively over the lovely treasures it contained— the Georgian silver which had obviously come from England, the cut glass, the dining-table with its patina of age. The sideboard matched it and so did the chairs—all Regency, all graciously in keeping with the decor of the room and its proportions. A fine lace runner covered the centre of the table; the flower decorations were orchids contained in pearly-pink conch shells, the napkins had been folded like boats. A seven-branch candelabrum in solid silver held bright red candles, the only illumination except for the muted light from two wall lamps. The food was delicious—home-produced steak following a starter of stuffed avocadoes with shrimp dressing; there were fresh vegetables, a light and-frothy dessert topped with whipped cream and almonds, then cheese and biscuits with coffee and cognac to follow. The wine

was dry and fruity, and even Lena with her scant experience could tell the difference between what she was drinking and what she and Stephen used to have on those occasions when they dined out to celebrate a birthday or their wedding anniversary. She went with the others to the verandah afterwards and Ralph brought out more drinks. Stephen, she noticed with a slight frown, had become very fond of his drink, taking far more than he used to, but Lena had heard that Rowena was a fairly heavy drinker, so perhaps it was not the free drink available here that was responsible for his changed habits, thought Lena, watching him have his whisky glass replenished for the third time. She wanted to be alone with him, to talk, to rid herself of this feeling of awkwardness, but it was over an hour before he said, glancing at his employer, 'Do you mind, Boss, if Lena and I take a stroll outside?' The cornelian eyes slid from him to Lena as he replied, with a hint of satire, 'Certainly not. Help yourself to the privacy of the garden.' Lena's colour heightened; all eyes were on her as she rose, especially those of Mrs Douglas and her grandson, both of whom wore masked expressions, taut, unreadable. Lena fell into step beside Stephen once they were down the verandah steps and in the garden. Silence prevailed for a few uneasy moments before Stephen said, turning to her swiftly, 'You don't seem too happy, Lena. Is something wrong?'

'I don't know,' she quivered. 'I must admit I don't feel as happy as I expected to.' He walked on, increasing his pace; she realised he was anxious to move away from the lights of the house, and from the eyes that were obviously following them as they walked, side by side, into the darkness and deep silence of the homestead grounds. 'You're probably tired, with that long journey through the bush. Didn't you have a sleep this afternoon?' His voice was faintly tight, his manner tensed. 'No, Copper showed me round—after tea, that was—and then it was time to get ready for dinner.' Before her mental vision rose a centaur-like figure, a superb horseman who rode proudly and without the least sign that the feat was costing him anything by way of energy. A man and a horse, both superlative of their kind. Lena slanted a glance at her companion's profile, comparing it with the strong face of the Boss of Coolibah Creek. There really was no comparison. Ralph Douglas was unique, Stephen no different from millions of other men. But that had not mattered to Lena. He was handsome, sought after by the girls who formed part of the circle with whom she and Stephen had mixed during their brief courting days. Yes, he was handsome all right, but certainly not in the way in which his employer was handsome. The strength was lacking in the facial lines and contours; the impression of superiority, the air of mastery and confidence— Ralph Douglas had all those, and more! 'Let's find a seat and talk, love.' Stephen's voice was soft, tender; it should have been like music to her ears but it was not—no, sadly it made not the least impression on either her heart or her mind. Nevertheless, she agreed to talk, since this was what she wanted—to tell him straight that he must not cherish hopes which might never materialise.

'I haven't made up my mind about anything,' she said without preamble once they were seated, on a wooden bench in a secluded part of the grounds. 'I told your mother I wasn't promising anything, and I also told you in my letter.' 'Yes, I know. But you love me, Lena—I know you do, and I love you.' He stopped and she knew that if she could see his expression it would be one of contrition, deep and sincere. 'I've hurt you terribly, and I've no real right to expect you to forgive me. But, darling, loving one another is the most important thing, and I love you now as much as on the day I married you, believe me!' He took her hand, holding it tightly as if seeking comfort and reassurance froiti the contact. 'What possessed me even to look at Rowena I shall never know. Put it down to a man's baser instincts if you can, Lena—yes, dear, in your generosity put it down to that, I beg of you, and let us try again.' She was too full to speak; there was no doubt in her mind either of her love for him or his for her. Why, then, this difficulty in meeting him half way? Why the hesitancy to try again? What he said presented an exciting picture—to find one another again, to make love, whispering words that each wanted to hear. Yes, it presented an exciting picture ... but a nebulous one-- ' 'I almost wish I. hadn't come,' she sighed, having to be completely honest with him because, at this moment, she would have given anything to be back in her own home. 'Don't say that,' he protested in a pained voice. 'You're tired, darling. Let me take you back.' 'No, I want to talk!' 'But what about, Lena?'

'Us. I won't deny that I love you,' she told him gently, 'but I don't seem able to forget, to put it all out of my mind. The pain ... here ... the agony of knowing you were holding her in your arms—' She faltered to a stop, never having intended to voice words like those, bringing up the past, which was so futile anyway. But her emotions were all awry; she wanted to weep on his shoulder, to find comfort— comfort! It was a desperate need and a primitive one. But where was she to find comfort? Her hand was clenched to her heart, a heart that even now throbbed with pain, because it had been so brutally disillusioned. She looked again at Stephen's profile and wondered just how deep his suffering had been. He seemed not to understand that he had shattered a beautiful ideal, bringing her whole world crashing about her ears. The other woman was a story as oldas time, but one that she fiercely told herself should not have had her as one of its characters. Yet alongside these thoughts was the conviction that she must try, must think about the future. It could be rosy if she would let it. Stephen was speaking, in quiet tones that held remorse and a mingling of doubt and fear. 'Lena darling, can't you forgive me? Have I sinned too deeply for you to be able to live with me again?' The catch in his voice was like a dagger in her heart. He was suffering, and it was in her power to heal that suffering. 'As you say, Stephen, I'm tired. Forgive me for being so erratic. I came out here to try, to see if I—if we could be friends--' 'Not friends but lovers, darling.' 'Friends first,' she insisted, looking earnestly at him, hoping he could sense her expression. 'I agreed to come and by that very act I resolved to try. Tomorrow, Stephen, I'll feel differently; I'll be able to think.' She withdrew her hand from his and smoothed her brow. 'I think it

would have been better if we'd met before dinner, don't you? The wine and the other drinks, and the food....' Wanly she looked at him in the darkness. 'I was always affected when we went out to dinner. Do you remember, Stephen?' 'I remember everything about you, Lena—everything!' It Was as if her words and his response had softened the atmosphere between them, for when he slid his arm about her she did not mind in the least, and he was emboldened to kiss her and she found herself responding. It was the same as before, she tried to convince herself, recalling with a little access of genuine, happiness how eager he had always been to kiss her. He never left the house in the morning without kissing her, and it was the first thing he thought about on his return. She rose and he followed suit, holding her hand as they walked back to the lighted homestead, back through the lovely gardens where sweet perfumes drifted on the clear night air from the exotic flowers blooming everywhere. Lena lifted her eyes to the wide heavens, where the Southern Cross flared and the super giant, Betelgeuse, shone vibrantly, the largest star in Orion. How vast the sky! How silent the lonely bush, sleeping in the shadows, a thousand miles of dark unfathomable sea-'It's so quiet,' she whispered, 'and so lost in its own primitive isolation.' 'I've grown to love it,' he returned simply, 'and you will, too, Lena, if you really want to.' She stopped and turned to face him. 'Yes,' she agreed, 'I think I will love it... if I want to.'

'A new life, Lena mine. A new start in a hew country, and never again anything to mar our happiness.' So persuasive--She wanted to nestle in his arms, to have him hold her as he used to, tenderly, protectively. 'It—sounds attractive, Stephen,' she murmured, and began to walk on again. 'Tomorrow I'm away again in the far pastures, but the next day I'm off. I'll take you over to the bungalow and you can see it. You'll like it, Lena. The Boss believes in making his employees comfortable.' 'You like him a lot, don't you?' 'Everyone likes him. He's a good boss—stern, though, if you do anything wrong. He's got no time for negligence or carelessness or disobedience either. As long as you keep in mind that he's the boss you're okay. Flaunt his authority in the slightest and you can expect trouble.' 'He seems very superior.' Lena wondered why she should want to talk about Ralph when there were more important things to discuss. 'He is superior—all these cattle ranchers are, as you'll discover when you meet more of them.' They were nearing the homestead. Everyone had left the verandah except Ralph Douglas. He was there on his own, relaxing in a chair, the light above his head shining on the book he held in his hand. 'Shall I meet more of them?' asked Lena, and Stephen nodded. 'Sooner or later. In fact, the Watkins are having a shed dance in three weeks' time and you'll be invited, along with me.'

The house was reached. Stephen spoke casually to Ralph Douglas before saying goodnight to Lena. 'I'd go straight to bed,' he advised. 'You need a good night's rest.' Lena watched him go, waiting until his figure melded with the darkness and the bushes before turning to say goodnight to Ralph Douglas. To her surprise he invited her to sit down. 'Would you like anything to drink—a milk drink, perhaps?' he added as she began to shake her head. 'It would help you to sleep.' She thought about it for a moment and then said yes, she would like a milk drink. He pulled a bell- rope to fetch one of the lubras and five minutes later a tray appeared with the milk and some small biscuits on a plate. 'And now,' said Ralph when the lubra had gone, 'tell me about your first impressions of the place where you might decide to live.' 'I'm not sure that I intend to live here,' she replied quickly. 'However, as to my impressions—I love the peace for one thing, and the wide open spaces. It's away from the world here, away from hurry and bustle and lights and noise.' Her voice was low and sincere, her eyes wide and, though she did not know it, most attractively shaded and serious. He was watching her with an unfathomable expression, noticing the charming facial movements, the soft mouth that quivered slightly, the beautiful arch of her neck above the delicate slope of her shoulders. 'Not many young women take to the isolation,' he commented presently. 'You're no age at all to be craving for such things as peace and the loneliness which inevitably results from wide open spaces.'

'I'm not so young as you seem to think, Mr Douglas,' she said after a small hesitation. 'I shall be twenty-six in three months' time.' He seemed surprised but made no comment on what she had said, but continued as if there had been no interruption, saying that a woman had to be tough to settle in the outback, even for a few years. 'I doubt if many English women could stand the rigours of our part of the country,' he went on. 'And apart from anything else there's a complete absence of theatres, cinemas, shopping arcades ... and unlimited baby-minders.' His voice was not so smoothly gentle now; it had a brittle ring, a hint of amused contempt that convinced Lena that there were many conflicting facets to the man's personality. Copper had given her description, and Stephen his. Both maintained that he was stern, but neither had mentioned contempt or cynicism. Lena sensed such traits and a certain ruthlessness as well. She replied, saying that she was well aware that life here would not in any way compare with life at home in England. 'But every country has its own particular charm,' she added with a smile, 'and for me the appeal here is, as I've said, in the peace and the space around me.' An uneven edge affected her voice, for although the . land itself promised perfect peace, there was a mental unrest within her which, she suspected, would not easily be removed. Ralph said nothing for a space, merely watching her as she picked up her milk and took a few sips. She felt his eyes upon her, wondered what he was thinking about. A strange sensation overcame her ... a sort of magical feeling of being alone with someone who was nice-- Swiftly she lowered her lashes, reluctant to risk letting him read her expression. 'Copper tells me you'd like to ride.' Ralph's voice broke the silence and she glanced up. 'Have you ridden recently?'

'No, not since I was a child, in fact.' He nodded thoughtfully. 'We'll have to find you something quiet, then. I'll see Chuck in the morning. We've a friendly little mare that should do you for a start.' 'Thank you.' She paused a moment, thinking about all this man—a stranger—was willing to do for her and she felt she must try to do something in return. 'I'd like to do some kind of a job while I'm here,' she said at length. 'There must be all sorts of things lean do?' 'We shall have to think about it.' His voice was non-committal. He closed his book and laid it aside, on the table. Lena, feeling awkward and wishing she had not offered her services, asked him if he read a great deal. 'Not a great deal, but certainly when I have the opportunity,' he replied. 'The kind of work that's done here is very demanding of one's time, and especially as at present when we're mustering and brandling. We use every man who can be spared.' 'Stephen,' she murmured, 'does he ride all day, watching the cattle?' 'Mainly that's his job, but the men here can usually turn their hands to anything.' He glanced at the beaker, with its contents hardly touched, and his manner changed, becoming brisk and authoritative. 'Drink your milk; it's getting cold.' She obeyed at once, and rose from her chair, thinking that perhaps she was keeping him from his bed.

'Goodnight, Mr Douglas.' She fluttered him a smile which brought no response. The cornelian blue eyes moved up and down over her figure before their owner said, in the same brusque voice as before, 'Goodnight, Miss Grafton. Sleep well.'

CHAPTER FOUR TRUE to his word, Ralph arranged for Lena to have a horse. It was a very quiet animal which seemed to take to her right from the start. Chuck watched her carefully as she mounted, dressed in tight-fitting jeans and a white short-sleeved shirt. She felt slightly nervous, which was to be expected, but the horse, Becky, seemed to understand and, much sooner than she would ever have dreamed, she was gaining confidence. By the end of the first week she was managing a mild gallop, going nicely. She was conscious on one occasion of the critical eyes of the Boss watching her as she rode away across a stubble paddock to canter alongside the dry creek bed. The air was still cool, with the torrid heat of the plain a couple of hours away. A breeze wafted in from the mountains in the distance to sweep across the plains; it caught Lena's hair, teasing it into the sort of disorder which troubled her a little but which, she knew, Stephen would find enchanting. She rode for a short way, leaving the homestead behind, and then, finding a shady spot under a little clump of casuarina trees, she tethered Becky where she could crop the grass and sat down, content with her own company; savouring the deep silence of the primitive land which she was fast growing to love. ' Ralph, speaking to her again one evening, had suggested that perhaps her sensitivity to first impressions was too high. 'Wait until you've been here a little longer,' he said with a hint of warning in his finely-modulated voice. 'You might discover that the peace and tranquillity you're so happy with at present can be inordinately boring and monotonous.' He could be right, of course, but Lena rather thought he was wrong, and that this feeling she had was permanent.

Her thoughts switched from Ralph to Stephen, and the day they had spent together. He had shown, her the bungalow and she owned at once that it was charming. 'With your aptitude for home-making and decor,' Stephen said eagerly, noticing her reaction as she looked around, 'this could very soon be. a little palace.' She had to agree. The rooms were large and airy— a sitting-room and dining-room, kitchen, bathroom and t\yo bedrooms. The windows were all high and wide, looking out on to the wide rangelands to one side and the gardens and homestead on another. The trees along the creek lent variety, as did the distant mountains, the MacDonnell Ranges whose summits had, that day, been shrouded in low-hanging wool- packs. Lena had stayed a long time at the bungalow, helping Stephen to cook a lunch of chops and mushrooms, with fresh vegetables he had grown himself in the garden at the back. They had sat in front of an open window, quiet, and yet there was nothing of the awkwardness which she had feared on first deciding to come over and see her ex-husband. No, they had been happy, in a way, but when Stephen asked her if she could live in the bungalow she found herself stiffening, unable to voice an answer. It was strange, she had thought later, when she had left him and was in her room, but the future was so nebulous that she could not form any kind of picture of it ... with orwithout Stephen. It was as if she were merely here, in a sort of vacuum, with no specific path to take, no .purpose to follow. A state of limbo--She cupped her face in her hands and watched Becky contentedly cropping the grass. Why worry about a thing? Take each day as it came, and let fate do the planning. The heat was mounting now, shimmering over the plain like a coating of oil, bright in the glare of the sun. The coolibah trees along the creek were etched against a pearl-blue sky, and the mob of cattle against the side of a long low hill. Stockriders moved in their midst, hard outdoor

men who were happier in the saddle than in a fireside chair. One stood out suddenly, riding a splendid horse, a spirited horse, suited to its rider, and as proud as he. Ralph Douglas rode as if he were moulded to the animal, one with its superbly fashioned body. The men looked his way as the Boss rode across the spinifex plain. Lena was fascinated by the sight; it was like looking upon something unreal, something so superlative that it could not possibly be real. What kind of a man was he, to stand out like this from all the others? It was not merely his physique, since there were others as tall and as sinewed, with faces ochre-bronzed and weather- toughened. No, it was no mere physical superiority that set the man apart; it was something from within as well, something inexplicable but vitally alive for all that. Lena stirred, a restlessness creeping over her; she remembered feeling like this before, and deciding it had nothing to do with Stephen-The horse was still cropping, but she moved, patting the silky neck before getting astride its back. Stephen had said he might be able to ride with her sometimes, but at present he was busy, like every other man who could be spared, with the mustering and branding of the young cattle. She had seen little of him, but it did not seem to matter; she was happy, especially as Copper had found her something to do now and then, as on the day Prissy had been off- colour and the Boss ordered her back to bed. Lena was up—she had risen early from the very first day, awakened as she was by the jackos in the trees outside her window—and Copper had suggested she lend a hand in cooking the men's breakfasts. Lena had been more than happy at the idea of making herself useful and had not made a bad job of cooking enormous quantities of meat and sausages for the dozen or so stockmen who came into the outsize kitchen and gathered round the table. She was perspiring heavily when Ralph appeared at the kitchen doorway, to give instructions to Copper regarding his grandmother who had decided to have her breakfast in bed. 'You look all in,' he said to Lena, 'Are you quite happy doing this?'

'Very.' She smiled up at him, at the same time removing damp tendrils of hair from her forehead. 'I've thoroughly enjoyed it. I'm not used to idling my time, you see.' Faintly he smiled, then left the kitchen. 'He'll chalk up a mark in your favour,' predicted Joe, one of the Aborigines who had been with Ralph ever since he took over from his grandmother. 'The Boss never misses anything—be it good or bad.' 'That's true,' from Ted, one of the two men who had been away when Lena had arrived. They were both back now, so there were two more for dinner each evening. 'It's good to have a mark in your favour; it serves you in good stead when you get a bad one.' 'I've never known you get a bad one, Ted,' said Copper from her place by the huge wooden sink. 'Well, I'd not be too sure about that,' he returned, looking doubtful. 'I expect I've made my share of mistakes, same as anyone else.' Copper had found Lena other jobs after that, one of which was to tidy up Mrs Douglas's private parlour, a task that had been done by Prissy, but as the lubra was again unwell Lena had taken on the chore, making certain that the job was done before the old lady came down in the morning. 'She'll do her block if she walks in and finds you sweeping or dusting,' Copper had warned. 'She's old- fashioned, one of those autocratic types who regard servants as servants even in these enlightened times. Not that she'd regard you as a servant,' added Copper hurriedly, realising she might have offended Lena, 'but she detests going into her room and finding someone working there.'

Becky was trotting happily along the track that lead to the paddock and Lena, her mind relaxed and her head held high, failed to notice the numerous small boulders littering the ground, one of which caused the horse to stumble. Lena came forward, her heart jerking. The next moment she was on the ground, with Becky standing close, having righted herself immediately Lena had fallen from her back. 'Oh--My ankle!' She got up but found to her dismay that she could not put any weight on her left foot. 'What am I going to do--' She stopped, surprised to see the Boss coming towards her, riding magnificently as usual, riding fast until, just before reaching her, he wheeled his horse, bringing it to one side and with a tug on the reins forcing its head down as it reared, then brought its front legs down again to stand still as a statue while he sprang from the saddle and went to Lena, asking what had happened, but giving her no time to answer as he added, 'I was on my way to the house when I saw you, riding nicely along the gibber track; the next moment you'd fallen. Are you hurt?' His cornelian blue eyes were already on the foot she was holding from the ground. 'A sprain?' 'I don't know--' She winced with pain and without more ado he lifted her up and carried her to a larger boulder lying off the track; he set her down on it and took hold of her foot, his long brown fingers pressing and probing, his eyes watching her face for any reaction. Several times she winced, absurdly admonishing herself for it and hoping Ralph Douglas wasn't branding her a softie. 'Hmmm-- Not a sprain but certainly a nasty wrench. How did it happen?' He straightened up and she found she had to tilt her head right back in order to meet his gaze. How tall he was! And the way he had lifted her—as if she were as light as a baby! The sensation of his body against hers, the strength-of his arms as he held her, the comfort of his shoulder ... all had affected her in some disturbing way, and even now her heartbeats were far too quick, her pulses racing.

'Becky stumbled,' she said in answer to his question. 'I didn't realise there were so many small boulders lying about.' 'Be careful next time,' he said sternly. 'You've been lucky this time; you might not be so lucky if this happens again.' He looked down at her in silence for a space. 'Are you feeling up to riding Becky, if I lift you on to her--' He stopped and shook his head. 'I'll take you up in front of me,' he said decisively. 'You're badly shaken and it isn't safe for you to ride--' 'Oh, but, I can ride!' she broke in, then stopped abruptly, admonished by the sudden severity of his stare. 'I'll take you up,' he said brusquely and, stooping, he again picked her up. She felt small and helpless... and she liked the sensation! She sensed the power of him, knew he was in full charge of the situation. She had someone to lean on, to make things easy when they had seemed to be so difficult, for she had not known how she was to mount her horse without some help. Content to be managed, she relaxed in Ralph's arms, vitally aware of him as a man despite her pain. She was aware too of the loneliness of their surroundings. Just Ralph and herself in the whole wide world-He lifted her on to the horse's back, then sprang up himself. 'Becky will follow,' he said confidently. 'Come, Tolka, gently now, gently--' Eventually they were on the wide forecourt of the house. The front door was opened, surprisingly, by his grandmother who stood, motionless, her expression a mask except for the brittle sparks in her old eyes which made them young—and sharp as cutting tools. She appeared to be seething, but pride and breeding precluded any demonstration before a stranger.

'What's wrong?' Her voice, almost malicious, was heard as Ralph was carrying Lena into the house. 'Becky stumbled and Miss Grafton was thrown— not badly.' His voice was curt, and it struck Lena that there was the hint of a challenge to it, as if he were daring his grandmother to say anything. 'She's wrenched her ankle.' 'Was there any need to carry her? Surely a mere wrenched ankle wouldn't render Miss Grafton helpless?' Lena coloured, and made an attempt to stand after she had been placed by Ralph on a chair in the hall. The pain left her gasping and she quickly sat down again. She would be hopping about on one foot for days, she thought ruefully. 'It was simpler to carry her.' His voice had a harsher note and his eyes narrowed, accentuating the tiny fan lines that radiated out from his temples. Lena felt embarrassed by the knowledge that she had caused friction between these two. And yet at the same time she was bewildered by the woman's attitude, by the fact that she should be annoyed just because her grandson had acted in the only way that was logical: he had offered assistance to someone who badly needed it. Obviously Mrs Douglas had seen them through the window, had seen her up in front of Ralph, on the horse. She had come to the door immediately, to show her-disapproval. 'I'll go to my room.' Lena rose but this time kept her foot off the floor. 'I'm sorry to have caused all this inconvenience--'.Her eyes wandered to the old lady; the apology was aimed at her, although Lena could not have said why, since she had caused Mrs Douglas not the slightest inconvenience! 'You'll not get upstairs,' said Ralph. 'Go into the sitting-room and I'll get Copper to fix you a bandage. I think you'll feel better when you've

got some kind of support. Don't worry too much; the pain won't be half as bad this time tomorrow.' He stopped rather abruptly as he noticed the look of interest and surprise on Lena's face, and he turned his head. A tall dark girl of about twenty-eight years of age was standing there, having come through the door of the room behind her. 'Corinne! I didn't expect to see you today.' The pleasure in his voice was unmistakable. 'How come?' 'I was bored, and decided to jump into one of the utes and come along here.' Her eyes flickered towards Lena's face. 'I didn't know you "had a visitor until your grandmother mentioned it. You didn't say anything when you phoned on Friday.' He shrugged indifferently, as if the presence of Lena in his home had either slipped his memory when he phoned, or it wasn't important enough to mention. He introduced them, then said casually that his grandmother had probably mentioned the reason for Lena's being here. 'If she decides she can put up with the hardships of our life here then we'll be having a wedding at Coolibah Creek,' he ended with a glance in Lena's direction. She frowned, and sat down again, having realised just how foolish she must appear, standing on one leg like that. The girl made her feel inferior anyway, with her sophisticated poise, the arrogance of her features, her immaculate appearance and the supercilious manner with which she was regarding her. 'A wedding,' she repeated with a thin smile. 'That'll be nice.' 'Of course,' interposed Mrs Douglas softly, 'Miss Grafton might find it's much too lonely here ... and decide to go home again.'

Lena caught the inflection of hostility and wondered at it. Already she was used to the woman's arrogance, but not until now had she shown any actual hostility towards her. 'That remains to be seen.' Ralph moved over to Lena and said he had better take her to the sitting- room, as it would not do the ankle any good to put her weight on it. Without a glance in the direction of the two women who were interestedly watching, he picked Lena up for the third time and carried her into the sitting-room where he placed her on a chair. 'Now, stay there for the rest of today and you'll not be doing any further damage. If you stand on that foot you'll definitely do more harm than good—so don't do it!' There was a stern inflection in his tone, and authority. Lena felt she would not have dared to move even if she had wanted to. The other two women had followed and were standing in the doorway, uncaring that she was hot with embarrassment, conscious of her dusty jeans and the little tear at the knee caused by her fall. Her shirt was not too clean, either, and she was sure her hair was just one untidy mess. Why did they have to stare like that! She swallowed, biting her lip, and suddenly Ralph noticed and flicked a hand authoritatively. 'Grandmother—Corinne—there's no need for you to be here! Miss Grafton's badly shaken; she'll be better on her own!' The door was soon closing behind them all, only to be opened again very shortly by Copper. 'The Boss told me what happened, and that I'm to bandage you up. What a darned shame—just when you were doing so well! Does it hurt badly?' Her eyes slid to the ankle, which had swollen to double its normal size. 'It does, rather. Mr Douglas says it'll be better tomorrow.'

'Doesn't look like it to me,' commented Copper pessimistically. 'I'll go and get the bandage.' Lena had tights beneath her jeans and she decided to save time by removing them while Copper was away. She managed very well, but to her horror the door opened while the lower half of her was near naked, and Ralph strode in, coming to an abrupt halt as his eyes took in what was going on. 'Sorry.' He turned swiftly. 'I was going to ask if you'd like Stephen to come in later, and keep you company?' 'Yes—pl-please,' she stammered, the sure conviction coming over her that she would never—never —be able to face him again without blushing. She had her jeans on again by the time Copper arrived with the bandage. It was deftly applied, with the speed and efficiency that was an inherent part of Copper's make-up. Copper wryly admitted she was too proficient, declaring to Lena that no man would ever want to marry her, not once he had got to know her properly. 'They like the helpless type,' she had added ruefully, 'so they can play the great guy, the big strong man whom their little lady leans upon.' Lena had laughed at the time, but thought it would be nice to lean on someone stronger than herself. Stephen had never been the type to lean on, mainly, Lena had decided, because he had always been the one to lean—on his doting and over-protective mother. "You look hot and bothered.' Copper, intent on fixing the bandage, had not at first noticed Lena's crimson cheeks. 'What's up?' 'Mr Douglas came in when I'd got my tights off,' she answered after a rather long and undecided pause.

Copper blinked uncomprehendingly. 'Your what?' Her eyes slid quite naturally to the tights that lay over the arm of the chair. 'I thought I'd take my tights off in readiness for the bandage, and he—he walked in--It was awful!' she cried, colouring even more vividly than before. To her great indignation Copper gave a crack of laughter. 'You mean,' she said when she had recovered, 'that you had on neither jeans nor tights?' 'It's nothing to laugh at! ' jerked Lena hotly. 'Can't you imagine the scene, with me--' 'That's what I'm laughing at, the scene. Ralph.... I wonder if he's ever seen a woman half naked before,' she went on musingly. 'Still, it would leave him cold; he hasn't an ounce of emotion, that one! You could have been a stone statue for all the impression you'd make on him.' 'Copper, please—' 'Sorry. But it really is amusing. What did he do— turn and run or stay and have a jolly good look?' Lena, angry now as well as embarrassed, felt she could have burst into tears. There had been more than enough discomfort during the past hour or so without this final embarrassment, produced by Copper. 'He went out,' she said shortly.

'I don't expect it is the first time,' mused Copper. 'He had a girl once, a glamorous home help who threw herself at him. He spurned her at first, then staggered us all by taking her off for a holiday in Alice Springs. They'd been back about a week when he sent her packing.' Lena frowned, but was realistic enough to admit that a man with the obvious virility of Ralph Douglas must at times have his diversions. She thought of Corinne—a hard girl if ever there was one, and coldly proud. Perhaps she had another side which she showed to the man who would eventually marry her. Something made her say, as she glanced at Copper, sitting on the window seat, 'Are Mrs Douglas and Corinne great friends?' Copper nodded. 'The old woman's full of ambition, even now, at her age. She wants to see that six thousand square miles added to the Coolibah Creek estate.' 'Mrs Douglas doesn't like me,' said Lena reflectively. 'She was annoyed that Mr Douglas brought me home and carried me in.' 'He carried you, did he?' said Copper, diverted. 'I couldn't walk,' returned Lena defensively. 'The reason why Mrs Douglas doesn't like you is because you might prove to be a potential danger to her ambitions,' said Copper, bypassing Lena's remark,. 'You're attractive and, if it should transpire that you decide you don't want to marry Stephen, then the Boss could possibly start taking notice of you.' 'Rubbish!' Lena almost glowered at her. 'Firstly, Copper, everyone's taking too much for granted regarding Stephen and me! I did not

come here with the intention of marrying him. Secondly, why on earth should a man like Mr Douglas look twice at anyone like me?' 'All right—all right, don't get your shirt off. I ought to have kept my mouth shut. I'm sorry.' 'So am I,' returned Lena contritely. 'I shouldn't have gone off at the deep end.' She paused a moment. 'It's just that I don't want people taking things for granted.' Copper looked curiously at her. 'You're very emphatic about it, Lena,' she said, and that was all, but Lena guessed that Copper's suspicions had been aroused, that she had begun to think -there was something about the relationship that did not meet the eye. Lena said, changing the subject, 'Do you think that they'll marry soon—Corinne and Ralph, I mean?' 'We've all been expecting an engagement for some time——' Copper broke off and shrugged. 'I feel sure they'll marry one day, and I can't think why they're dallying like this. It's not Corinne, though; she'd marry tomorrow if only he would say the word.' Stephen arrived at four o'clock, having been excused any further duty that day. He was all concern, kneeling down to touch Lena's ankle and murmuring words that suddenly palled, since they sounded insincere, being produced merely for effect. 'How did it happen, love?' he was asking as he straightened up. She told him, impatient because, after all, there was nothing seriously wrong with her.

'Anyone would think I was dying!' she could not help retorting when he began to murmur soothingly again. He stared in amazement and she recalled that never had she spoken sharply to him until the affair of Rowena and the quarrels that had inevitably resulted from it. 'You're very touchy, Lena.' 'Because I'm fed up with the whole business! I've wrenched my ankle, nothing more.' 'Well, there's no need to be so bad-tempered about it,' he returned with a sort of pained exasperation. 'I came to comfort you--' 'I don't need comfort!' 'Shall I go again?' he enquired stiffly. She shook her head, wondering what was the matter with her. She was tensed, uncomfortable because the memory of Ralph's walking in on her kept returning. Then the girl Corinne would keep intruding, to be overshadowed by the picture of Mrs Douglas, furious because her grandson had brought her home on his horse and carried her into the house. But none of this was any fault of Stephen's, she admitted reasonably, and felt thoroughly ashamed of herself, especially as he was looking so crestfallen and unhappy. 'I'm sorry,' she said, her eyes contrite as they looked into his. 'I oughtn't to have snapped at you.' He smiled and suggested they sit together on the couch. 'I'll help you, love,' he offered, but she shook her head. 'I can hop that far,' she assured him with a smile.

But as she rose and put her weight on her foot she felt almost faint, and realised that she was more shaken than she had believed. Stephen slid an arm around her when presently they were on the sofa. 'Lena,' he whispered, 'I'm going to kiss you.' But he leant back uncertainly and added, 'May I?' in a voice so meek that Lena frowned. Her thoughts flew to hi? boss. Would he ask meekly if he were in Stephen's situation? Lena rather thought he would take what he wanted, take it with all the arrogance and mastery of a man who was a law unto himself. Never would he be meek, in the way her ex-husband was meek--She cut her thoughts, angry that she should be comparing the two men. She loved Stephen dearly, so he should rise above all others in her particular estimation. And because of the guilt she felt she turned impulsively to him, offering her lips with a suggestion of eagerness she did not really feel. And it was at that moment that Ralph Douglas entered, to stand for a second, his narrowed gaze on the couple on the couch, their lips locked together. 'So,' he murmured unsmilingly, 'we're to expect a wedding I take it?' Lena looked away, angry because of this moment, embarrassed because of the memory of what had happened the last time Ralph had entered this room. 'Yes, I think so,' she heard Stephen say confidently. 'I don't think it'll take me long to persuade Lena to marry me.' The Boss of Coolibah Creek remained impassive. 'It was a quick decision, Miss Grafton.'

She glanced up, cheeks burning; she was sure that beneath that enigmatic expression there was contempt. He believed her to be rash, precipitating herself into marriage without sufficient thought. 'I haven't decided,' she managed hollowly. 'Stephen is taking too much for granted.' She just had to say it, even though she did not want to embarrass Stephen; but he had asked for it, making a statement like that without first making sure of her feelings. Later, she admonished him, reminding him that she warned both him and his mother that this was only a visit, the outcome of which might be disappointing to them both. 'We've to get to know one another,' she ended, at which he made an incredulous ejaculation and said that if they did not know one another after almost four years of marriage then they never would. 'We don't know one another,' she denied, 'not after this long separation.' And she had to add, because she was still angry with him for what he had so confidently said to Ralph, 'I thought I knew you, thought I knew every single thing about your character, but I didn't--' She stopped, her face twisting in distress. 'Oh, Stephen, why can't I forget ! It keeps coming back ... and it hurts--'A sob she could not control rose in her throat, smothering her words. Stephen looked hard at her and said bitterly, 'You can't forget because you don't try, Lena.' She nodded, blaming herself for the way she was feeling. She ought to be able to control her thoughts, to guide them into the channels she wanted them to take. 'I'll try to forget,' she promised, steadying her voice with an effort. 'I must if we're to get anywhere.' 'I'm rushing things, I suppose, but I love you, Lena, and as you love me it seems stupid to waste time, surely you can see that?'

Waste time--So much time had been wasted already—years of her youth when she could have had her children and she and Stephen could now be enjoying them. 'I'll have to have time,' she said, looking pleadingly at him. 'You see, Stephen, it wouldn't be any use at all for me to marry you the way I feel at present. I'd make you unhappy because I wouldn't be happy myself.' She heard him sigh—with sadness or impatience, she did not know which. It was with a sense of relief that she noticed the sudden look of resignation that entered his eyes. . 'All right, Lena, I won't press you again. I'll wait darling, until you yourself decide to come to me and say you're ready to marry me.' 'Thank you, Stephen. I'll try not to keep you waiting too long.'

CHAPTER FIVE EVERYONE was invited to the Watkins' shed dance, even the servants. Lena, fully recovered, was, like Copper, concerned with what she would wear. The plain blue evening skirt with the white trimming round the hem appealed to her because she could wear a white blouse with it, and white always suited her, contrasting with her brown eyes—and now with- the lovely tan she had acquired after three weeks in the sun. Stephen was waiting in the hall when she came down from her room; he was talking casually to the Boss and both men turned, Stephen's expression one of undisguised admiration, while Ralph's was enigmatic and unmoving. Lena smiled, glancing from one to the other. She wished she had known they were both here, for then she would have delayed her 'entrance' until Copper was ready and they could have come down together. However, by now Lena had got over that embarrassing experience when Ralph walked in on her, and although she felt mildly uncomfortable at being the focus for the stares of the two men, she contrived to put on a casual front. 'Are we four going together?' she asked, flinging a hand carelessly and adding that Copper had called from her bedroom, telling her she would not be many minutes. 'Yes,' answered Ralph. 'We'll go in the car; the Land Rover and other vehicles will be better for the men and the lubras, since there are so many more of them than us.' 'Doesn't your grandmother go?' asked Lena, and Ralph shook his head. 'She did up till about a year ago,' he told her, 'but it's a bit too much for her these days. She didn't dance, of course, but she did enjoy watching.'

He sounded casual, Lena thought, and had already • guessed that there was little love lost between Ralph and his grandmother. He probably resented the old lady's attitude towards his mother, and rightly so. Mrs Douglas ought to have recognised the position of her son's wife in the household. How would Corinne go on? wondered Lena. Perhaps, seeing that Mrs Douglas so strongly approved of the girl, she would be more than Willing to resign her position as mistress of the Coolibah Creek homestead. Copper arrived, full of apologies as she explained that her zip had played her up and in the end she had been forced to change into something else. 'You look gorgeous!' she told Lena. 'I love lace blouses; they're romantic and sexy because your bra shows through—and your bare skin!' Lena laughed self-consciously, still endeavouring to keep up her confident front. But she had a hard job to do so when she saw Ralph's eyes move, as if to discover the truth of what Copper had said. 'If we're ready,' said Stephen rather stiffly, 'shall we go?' Ralph looked at him perceptively, and nodded his head. 'Yes, by all means let's go,' he said. 'We're late already—thanks to Copper, and the zip which she maintains kept her.' 'Oh, so you don't believe me, then?' she retorted, laughing. 'I haven't said so,' replied Ralph suavely. 'The implication was there!' 'Out for an argument, are you?' His eyes were attractively humorous; his mouth tilted at one side as he smiled. Lena caught her breath

involuntarily, deciding that no woman could remain indifferent to the attractions of a man like Ralph Douglas, and she excused herself for her own interest, and for wishing she were privileged to share the same camaraderie with him as Copper. 'No such thing,' returned Copper, looking up at him coquettishly as she walked beside him along the length of the hall and through the open front door. 'I was in a party mood when I came downstairs.' 'And aren't you still?' Indulgently he slid her a glance as he added, 'I nettled you, eh? Well, I'm sorry —but you've come that zip fastener excuse before, and not just once.' 'The trouble with you,' said Copper chillingly, 'is that you've too darned good a memory!' He laughed at that, and tucked his hand beneath her elbow. Stephen grinned and whispered into Lena's ear, 'I can never understand what the Boss sees in Corinne when he's got a girl like Copper crazy about him.' 'Copper ... crazy about him?' She shook her head and frowned a little. 'Copper's not in love with him,' she stated definitely. . The two were in front, making for the overlanding car. Ralph's hand was still tucked beneath Copper's elbow. It was certainly an intimate, pose, decided Lena, and wondered what Corinne would think if she were here to witness it. 'Not madly, because she knows full well she hasn't a chance. No dowry of six thousand square miles of this Northern Territory, but she likes him a lot. I know because I've read it in her eyes.'

Lena sighed, feeling sorry for Copper but at the same time thinking that Ralph would not do for her anyway, simply because he was cold and calculating and more interested in cattle and horses than in women. Copper was warm and outgiving; she might be highly efficient and appear to be far too practical, but already Lena had learned that beneath it all she was just as feminine as any other woman. She sat in the front seat with Ralph, silent now as he drove along through the avenue of casuarinas to the road. Other cars could be seen—or rather, their lights—in the distance both ahead and in the rear. Copper had told Lena that there would be about two hundred guests at the dance and the barbecue; she would be meeting all those who really mattered—and one or two who didn't. 'Such as Hal Spittlefield who's the biggest rake around here,' Copper had said warningly. 'Watch him; if you happen to let yourself be led out into the dark by him and stay away for ten minutes or more you'll be branded a no-good.' 'Ten minutes!' Lena had exclaimed. 'You must be having me on!' Copper had grinned, but her voice was serious as she said, 'He brags continually of his conquests. Mind you, he's so darned handsome that the girls do throw themselves at him.' 'Well, thanks for the warning,' said Lena. 'Point him out to me, will you?' Copper had promised to do just that, but it was to transpire that both she and Lena forgot all about Hal Spittlefield and his reputation. More cars were seen as Ralph drove towards the Watkins' homestead: headlights swept the drive, his and those of the cars in front. He nosed

his way into a space between a runabout and a limousine and they all got out. Lena was intrigued by the numerous lights, the festooned walls and roof of the shed, which was as large as that of Coolibah Creek. Jed Watkins and his wife, Sadie, were there to receive their guests. Lena was introduced, eyed critically and asked how she liked the' Outback and if she thought she would stay. . 'We were all happy for Stephen,' said Jed, a tall, overweight grazier with an air of arrogance similar to that of Ralph Douglas. 'A man should have a mate—especially a man as young and good-looking as Stephen.' That he was well-liked was plain, had been from the beginning. Everyone Lena had spoken to praised his work, or his manners, or his blond good looks. Mrs Watkins smiled thinly as she shook hands with Lena. Copper gave what could only be described as a grunt of disparagement when Corinne appeared out of nowhere looking like something out of a Paris shop window. She was in a tight-fitting dress of heavy, clinging material of a colour between pink and peach. Her shoulders were bare, the bodice of her gown well-boned, cupped to her breasts in seductive tightness. Her hair shone in the light, sleek as the fur of a silver fox. It was drawn back, away from a high unlined forehead, and styled in a French pleat at the back of her head. Diamonds and rubies gleamed at her throat and wrists. She oozed wealth, said Copper in Lena's ear, and Lena thought this a good description. Her big dark eyes seemed to glitter as they scanned Lena's face for a moment; the insolence was undisguised, the half-sneer on her lips put a blot on their beauty. 'Miss Grafton—glad to see you here. Your ankle's better, obviously?' 'Yes, thank you, Miss Watkins,' answered Lena graciously. She looked round for Stephen, but he was talking to two men some distance away. Already the shed seemed to be overcrowded and

people still piled in. Along the walls cane chairs had been arranged in little groups; many people were occupying them, but many more were just standing around chatting together. At one end a small orchestra was ready to start playing, the pianist fingering the keys, tapping , out notes. Flowers abounded, and masses of green branches and ferns, so that the place looked almost like a garden. Lights flared, coloured and white and silver. It was a gay gathering and as Lena was introduced to more and more people she settled into an attitude of quiet enjoyment, amazed to find that she was well sought after for the dances, since she expected the young men to fight shy of approaching her too much, seeing that everyone considered her to be Stephen's girl. But he seemed content to have one or two dances with her and she noticed particularly that he danced quite a lot with a young, eighteen-year- old girl to whom Lena had earlier been introduced. She was English—Denise Redman, and she had come over only seven weeks ago to live in at Palm Ridge sheep station, working for George Platt and his wife Olive. Stephen had not met her until this evening, but as Lena watched them dancing together, leaning a little away from one another so that they could talk, she decided that, for a first meeting, they were getting along like a house on fire. Strangely no pangs of jealousy came to tighten her emotions, no anger rising in her breast. She was enjoying herself and she hoped that Stephen was enjoying himself too. He certainly seemed to be, if his laughter was anything to go by. Lena was sitting out, her interest never waning as she scanned the faces of the people to whom she had been introduced. Members of the Outback squatocracy, most of them owned estates similar to that of Ralph Douglas; they were all fantastically wealthy ... and all profoundly conscious of their status. There was snobbery in plenty, and the Watkins family seemed to possess rather more than any other. Lena's eyes even now caught sight of Corinne, laughing with a small knot of people, and there was arrogance and superiority even in the way she stood, and in the set of her proud head on beautiful sloping shoulders.

'Would you care to dance, Miss Grafton?' Ralph Douglas's cool slow drawl made her turn, a smile leaping to her lips. She rose and was swung into the waltz, acutely aware of many eyes upon her, and especially Corinne's. The girl had stopped talking abruptly and her head was turned, her dark eyes following Ralph and Lena as they danced in perfect harmony with the music, and with each other. It was exciting, being held like this! Lena felt the whipcord hardness of his body against hers, the warmth of his hands, the cool cleanness of his breath upon her . temple. He had to draw her even closer several times, avoiding other couples, as the floor was crowded despite the vast size of the shed. Lena's heart began to do strange things, to hammer uncontrollably against her ribs—and her pulses were not normal, either, she noticed, wondering how many other girls had been affected in this way by the incredible attractiveness of the Boss of Coolibah Creek. She wondered, too, how Corinne could be coldly practical regarding a probable marriage with Ralph. If it were herself, decided Lena, she would be so madly in love with him that she would not be able to bear the thought that he was marrying her for the 'dowry' she would eventually be bringing to him. 'You're very preoccupied, Miss Grafton.' She looked up and smiled at him, noticing the contrast of sun-bronzed skin against the gleaming whiteness of his shirt, the fan lines spreading from eye to temple, result of narrowing his eyes against the fierce Australian sun. His hair where it joined his forehead was bleached a little, creating another—equally attractive—contrast. 'I'm concentrating on my steps,' she said after searching for a response to his comment. She could hardly tell him the truth—that she had been thinking of Corinne, and of the vast acres she would one day inherit and join on to those of Coolibah Creek. Ralph laughed.

'You have no need to concentrate,' he assured her. 'You dance very well. You must have done a great deal of it at home.' 'I did a fair amount at one time. Stephen loved it--' She stopped, her nerves jerking at the slip. 'You've known him a long time?' She shook her head automatically, anxious to dispel the impression she had given. But then she felt she could not lie, and for a moment she hesitated. He had drawn away a little, and was regarding her curiously and with a slight frown between his eyes. 'Some time, yes,' she said at last, then changed the subject immediately, asking if the shed dances were always as crowded as this one. 'I wouldn't have thought there were so many people who could have been invited,' she added finally. 'The estates are far-flung, I admit, but people don't mind how far they travel for their entertainment. Many of these here tonight will be staying, perhaps for two or three days.' 'They've come such a long way?' Ralph Douglas nodded. 'The Fosters have come six hundred miles.' Lena gasped. 'Six hundred! How long would it take them?'

He shrugged and replied casually, 'They'd start out yesterday morning, I suppose, and make camp last night, finishing the journey today. The roads between their place and here aren't too good, so they'd not be able to travel very fast—except on some stretches, of course.' 'Have you ever travelled that distance, just for entertainment?' 'Many a time. Frank Foster and his wife Shelley are very good friends of mine.' The music stopped and he led her towards the place where she had been sitting when a voice over the loudspeaker announced the interval for the barbecue. 'I don't see Stephen about.' Ralph glanced around, scanning the faces of the people streaming from the floor and making for the open air. 'He's taking you to supper, surely?' 'I—think so.' She felt awkward, aware that Ralph was reluctant to leave her and yet convinced that he wanted to join Corinne for supper. 'He'll be here any minute— if you want to go--' 'I can't leave you on your own.' Impatience in his voice, and a frown had appeared between his eyes. Lena glanced around for Denise; she was missing, too. Strangely, so was Corinne, and after another hesitation Ralph said that he and she would have supper together. Lena began to protest but was interrupted, brusquely and a trifle impatiently. With a resigned and unhappy sigh she fell into step beside him. It was a strange situation, she thought, for here she was with the man who ought to be with Corinne, while Stephen, who ought to be with her, was obviously with Denise. Where, then, was Corinne?

The barbecued food was served by the gins who had cooked steaks and cutlets and chicken joints over red-hot charcoal. As Ralph and Lena approached they heard laughter and chatter and much goodhumoured banter from the people grouped around the braziers. Lena helped herself to a joint and a cutlet, some crispy potato strips and delicious sauce, then waited, plate in hand, for her companion to receive the sausages which were being browned for him by a smiling coloured woman of enormous proportions. 'We'll sit over there.' Ralph pointed, and shepherded her towards a little copse where seats had been placed but which were unoccupied, as no one other than Ralph appeared to have noticed them. 'It's lovely here!' she exclaimed enthusiastically. 'Away from the crowds.' She had decided that the only thing to do was make the best of the situation, to forget as far as possible that she was not really wanted by the man who, for the sake of politeness, and because she was his guest, had felt it his duty to be her escort for supper. She was vitally aware of his presence, the magnetism of his personality, the pleasure she was deriving from being with him. They ate in silence, beneath the indigo mantle of a Capricornian sky pierced by a million stars, with an outsize apricot moon in their midst. Already she had learned that Australian moonlight had a quality all its own, and when the moon was full the stars seemed to recede, as if abandoning the effort to compete. She slanted a glance at the man by her side, and something unfathomable affected her senses as she studied that strong and handsome profile. There was magic in the very air around her, witchery in the isolation spreading away on every side except that from where the laughter came, and the lights and orange glow from the braziers. 'Would you like another cutlet?' Ralph's voice fell upon the silence. She shook her head arid said no, she had had quite enough.

However, ice-cream and melon were available and Ralph persuaded Lena to have some—just a little of each. He then suggested a stroll, surprising her, since she had been telling herself that he would be glad when he could take her back to the shed and leave her, then go off and find Corinne. Agreement leapt to Lena's lips; she said she would very much enjoy a stroll. She was in a dream world, her mind scarcely able to concentrate on anything other than the v pleasure she was deriving from Ralph's company. They took their empty plates over to a table and set them down. Among the medley of people standing around, plates in hand, she espied Stephen; he was with Denise, chatting to her in an intimate sort of way, his head bent a little so that it was close to her ... too close. Ralph saw them and seemed to jerk before standing immobile, staring at them. There was a distinct thread of anger in his voice as he said, 'As Stephen seems to be occupied we have no need to worry that he'll be looking for you, have we?' He glanced down into her face, searching for ... what? Lena managed to inject a lightness into her voice as she said with a smile, 'I expect he's seen that I'm not on my own, so he isn't anxious about me.' Ralph said nothing, and when they were away from the lights and the crowds he surprised her yet again by taking her arm, explaining that there were many small boulders here, like those over which her horse had stumbled. 'We call them gibbers,' he added, 'and you could very easily twist your ankle again if you were to tread awkwardly on one.' Lena was quivering at his touch, her mind in a whirl of confusion. The night was too romantic by far, with the deep silence, the breeze heady with the scent of pines, clean and cool as it brushed against her face and through her hair. Across the wide unfathomable vault of the

heavens streaked the Southern Cross, and the less harsh girdle of the Milky Way trailing into infinity. Ralph stopped to point out some of the constellations; he was close, his body touching hers, and she wondered if he were as vitally conscious of it as she. There was no sound except the hushed murmurings of the night—something in the spiky grass, an insect winging past her face, the far- off muffled bark of a dingo looking for food. She glanced up as Ralph spoke again, trying to listen and to forget the nearness of him and what it was doing to her. She found herself swallowing convulsively as saliva collected in her mouth, was conscious of a yearning, an urgent desire for something to happen. And it did happen. Ralph moved on and as she made to fall into step beside him she put her foot on one of the gibbers and twisted sideways, right in front of him. He caught her instantly, bringing her against him with the jerked action he was forced to make. She was in his arms and he made no move to release her. Her heart was racing; she felt he must surely be able to hear its wild beating. There was silence all around, and the heady magic of total isolation. For the second time she felt that there was only Ralph and herself in the whole wide world. The moments stretched, and somehow her arms came up and around him and she lifted her face, without embarrassment. 'I—I nearly fell....' He made no answer as he looked into her eyes. She knew he would kiss her; it could not be otherwise. His mouth was gentle at first, then hard, possessive, as her soft lips were forced apart and finally they were crushed with almost brutal force. She was passive for a moment, but then his magnetism and his ardour brought an eager response and for a long, long moment they stood, bodies and lips locked together. At last he pushed her from him, fury in the action, anger darkening his eyes. His face was taut and frightening in the moonlight.

'I'm sorry,' he said harshly. 'It was unforgivable of me. I hope you'll forget it!' He strode away; Lena moved after him, her body drained, her eyes bright with tears about to fall. He was blaming her and she was to blame. She had stood there, lost in a world of magic, half knowing that something dramatic would happen ... desiring it to happen. With a shock that threatened to deprive her of her senses, she realised that she had actually yearned for his kiss, for the feel of those hard strong arms about her in an embrace that was intimate ... and more— She thought about Stephen and how the memory of their happiness had kept her from all other men for this long while. And now--A kiss in the moonlight seemed to have changed the whole concept of her feelings, and of the future, and a possible reconciliation with her ex-husband. Ralph was still striding along, eating up the distance between him and the lights and the laughter. Lena, skipping alongside him, glanced at the stern set profile and felt lost and shut out. He was filled with self-contempt, condemning himself for what he would consider a weakness, a flaw in his armour. She had to say something to break the unsociable silence that had fallen between them. 'I'm sorry, Mr Douglas--' How absurd to be calling him Mr Douglas after the intimacy of that kiss! 'I—I will forget it—as you s-say, but I feel I w-was to blame--' 'Don't be ridiculous!' he snapped, turning for a second to glower at her from under darkened brows. 'It was my fault and you know it! Don't ever mention it again!' Her temper rose. She wanted to put a distance between them and forget it had ever happened.

'Go on if you want to!' she flashed, her eyes sparkling with anger and tears beginning to fall at the same time. 'I'm not running to keep up with you! Go on, I say!' 'I'm sorry!' He slowed his pace, but his anger increased. 'Don't apologise,' she returned stiffly. 'It only adds insult to injury!' 'I apologised for the pace I was setting, not anything else.' 'Please go on,' she began, aware that she would be weeping within the next few seconds. 'I'm not in any hurry to get back to the shed.' 'I prefer to see you back,' he told her decisively. 'Well, I'd prefer to be on my own—if you don't mind,' she said, and stopped, uncaring for the exclamation of asperity he made. 'You can go on without me.' He had stopped, and she saw his expression. A ripple of apprehension affected her spine even before he spoke. 'You'll do as I say, and come along with me.' And to emphasise his words he seized her arm and jerked her along beside him. She twisted and struggled and eventually broke away, but only for a second. He seized her again and to her amazement shook her unmercifully. 'No one,' he muttered through his teeth, 'defies my authority! You'll do as you're told and come with me!' Lena started to cry, but made no further attempt to defy him. She was weighed down by misery, for all she could visualise was having to leave the homestead. And where would she go? Home— Back to her safe little flat, and to the job that her boss had promised would be waiting for her.

When they reached the lights he left her, without a word, and she stood very still, watching him through her tears. She thought of his accepting her into his home. He was stiff and formal but gracious for all that. What had possessed her to tempt him as she did out there? He was only human ... and she had as good as asked him to kiss her. Her lip quivered and she turned, to go back into the darkness and the solitude of the bush. She blamed Stephen for the position she was in since if he had not left her to her own devices she would never have been with Ralph Douglas at all. But why blame Stephen? she was saying a moment later. She herself was entirely to blame-'Lena! Where on earth have you been?' Stephen's voice brought her round. 'I've been looking all over for you.' He stopped as he reached her, and saw her tears. 'Lena my dear, what's the matter?' 'Nothing! You ask where I've been, but I can ask you the same question!' 'Why were you out there, in the bush?' He seemed perturbed, she thought, her eyes wandering to that dark wilderness which, a few moments ago, had seemed like a magic place, a setting for romance. 'I wanted to be alone?' 'Why are you crying? Is it because you couldn't find me?' She looked at him, puzzled by the odd inflection in his voice. 'Tell me, Lena, it's important that I know.' 'Important? Why?' He hesitated a moment and then, 'If you're crying because of me then—well, it's proof that you really missed me, isn't it?'

She blinked, unable to comprehend his meaning. 'You're being very vague,' she murmured, still trying to see what he was implying. 'To be honest, Lena, I've been with Denise to make you jealous. You've not been nice to me lately— What I mean, love, is that you can't seem to make up your mind, and I thought if I made you jealous—' He trailed off and shrugged self-consciously. 'Did it work or not?' She gasped. It needed only this, she thought, to make the evening a complete failure. 'No,' she flashed, 'it didn't work! What made you suppose I'd be jealous—after being parted from you for four years?' 'You're bitter, aren't you?' She sighed exasperatedly, brushing a hand across her eyes to remove the tears. Why should she cry? Neither Ralph Douglas nor Stephen were worth shedding tears for! 'Take me back to the shed,' she quivered. 'I feel like going home!' 'Home? To England, you mean?' 'Yes,' she snapped, 'to England!' 'You haven't told me why you were crying?' He fell into step beside her as she began to walk back the way she had come. 'You wouldn't be interested!' 'I have an idea that I would.'

She just made an impatient exclamation and increased her pace. When eventually they reached the verandah a barn dance was about to begin. 'The Flirtation Barn Dance,' said Stephen. 'The men are inside and you take the outer circle.' She had never felt less like dancing, but she took her position with Stephen on her left. A waltz ended the first sequence and she danced with him, but the next time she was with a different partner altogether. After the fourth sequence she was with Ralph Douglas and sensed the stiffness in him as he held her, sensed his relief when the time came for him to release her. At the end Stephen stayed with her for a short while, but because she was silent he went into a huff and left her, to be seen dancing with Denise as the music struck up again. The dance was a lively jig and before she quite realised it Lena was drawn into it by a tall young man with laughing eyes, a cleft chin and a handsome, brown-skinned face. He had danced with her before and she had thoroughly enjoyed it, because he was a superb dancer. The jig went on and on, with breathless laughter competing with the music coming from the bandstand. 'Phew!' exclaimed the young man when at last he was leading Lena off the floor. That was a bit hectic! I'm for a breath of fresh air. Coming?' She nodded without thinking, her interest caught by Corinne, who was looking at her with a strange expression. It was a prolonged stare, and then her eyes seemed to become veiled after she had glanced at the young man. He said, his hand beneath Lena's elbow as he led her on to the verandah, 'The beautiful Corinne and her beau. An engagement's rumoured again.'

'Again?' 'Gossip's always getting them engaged. I expect they'll make it one of these days—marriage, I mean.' He sounded cynical, she thought, but when she looked up into his face he was smiling in the most charming way. 'They're well suited,' she said, and wondered why she should be frowning all at once. 'Admirably suited,' he agreed. 'I thought at first that they'd had a tiff, or something, because she was with Willy Challenger at the barbecue. Where Ralph was I don't know.' 'Do they often have tiffs?' 'All couples have tiffs; it's part of the joys of courtship—the making up, I mean.' Lena said nothing, allowing herself to be shepherded from the verandah on to the grass and then to a path which followed the distant, darker places. 'How are you liking the country around here?' he asked conversationally. 'A dramatic change for you, isn't it?' She nodded, her thoughts on Corinne and Ralph. She could not imagine them having an emotional making up after a tiff. They were both too coldly unemotional ... or were they? That scene with Ralph out here in the lonely darkness had been something of a revelation-'Yes, a very great change,' she agreed in answer to her companion's question. 'I love it here, though.' The country but not particularly the people, she thought. There was Copper, of course, and Chuck and

several others. She had made friends with Alice MacBane, having been over to her bungalow several times for morning coffee. 'The country's fascinating, but it doesn't appeal to everyone.' 'I like the peace.' Her eyes wandered over the moonlit bush, over miles and miles of spiky grasslands to where the mountains were silhouetted against the silver-plated sky. Clumps of gum trees dotted about looked like rearing black monsters crippled with age. 'I know it's monotonous,' she added when he did not speak, 'but the space is very attractive to me. The loneliness is dramatic, spectacular.' She was more herself by this time, refusing to dwell "on that scene with Ralph Douglas or the conversation she had had with Stephen. This young man was a pleasant companion to talk with, and walk with, and she wandered on, unthinkingly, farther and farther away from the shed where all the activity- of the party was in progress. 'My, but you are enthusiastic,' laughed the young man. 'Will you stay and marry Stephen Woodridge, do you think?' She sighed, wishing she could stop this gossip once and for all. 1 don't know about that,' she answered. 'I came on a visit, not to rush into marriage.' She slanted him a glance, wondering who he was. Although she had danced with him he had not told her his name. She had not been introduced to him—but there were so many people at the dance that it would have been impossible for her to have been introduced to them all. 'Good for you,' he applauded. 'Who wants to rush into marriage anyway? A pretty girl like you should be having fun, not babies!' Lena jerked to a standstill, nerves alert. 'That's a strange thing to say,' she criticised, frowning at him.

'Too familiar?' he laughed. 'Rubbish! These are modern times, my dear—and I'm very sure you're not the old-fashioned type--' And before she had time even to guess his intention she was seized by the wrist, brought to him, and he was kissing her mouth, her cheek, her throat. She struggled fiercely, intending to slap his face, but he had both her arms pinioned to her sides. 'No, not old-fashioned,' he murmured as he took his lips from hers. 'Are you really Stephen's girl? How about being mine?"* 'Let me go! Get away from me! I'll tell Mr Douglas--!' 'Oh, come off it!' he scoffed, and pressed his mouth to hers again. ' You won't tell anyone and you know it. Come with me, I know a place where we shan't be disturbed--' He stopped, laughing at her struggles. He was strong, a toughened Outback man whose arms were hawsers of steel. Lena was almost in tears, wishing with all her heart that she had never come to the dance. 'I'm going to kiss you again, my little beauty— and make you respond!' Suiting action to his words, he swung her right back, arching her body, pressing over her to take her lips. Her head went light and she wondered what would happen if she fainted, out here . in this quiet spot, away from other people, where this fiend could molest her if he felt so inclined. Suddenly voices drifted through the silence and Lena sagged with relief as the man drew away. She turned... to find herself looking up into Ralph Douglas's face. The moon had gone behind a cloud, but she could sense his contempt, and the sneering arrogance of his companion. The couple went on, their voices heard again. Lena moved swiftly, the man behind. 'I hate you!' she seethed When he caught her up. 'Who are you anyway? I'm going to complain to Mr Watkins!' Her voice was far

from steady; her nerves were all awry and the tears were not very far away. 'Hal's the name,' laughingly as the man fell into step with her, pacing his stride to hers. 'Hal Spittle- field.' 'Hal--!' She turned, wanting to slash out at his smirking face. 'Copper warned me about you! She intended pointing you out!' Why, oh, why hadn't she done just that! thought Lena, her mind focusing on Ralph and the contempt he must be feeling for her. And that sneering girl he was with— Lena's thoughts cut, then threaded together again. Corinne had seen Hal taking her out.... Lena felt convinced that the girl had gone to Ralph and suggested they take a stroll. Yet why should Corinne want Ralph to know that Lena had gone for a walk with Hal? Lena was reminded of Copper's words about Mrs Douglas's regarding her as a potential danger to her ambitions. Surely Corinne was not of the same mind? There seemed to be no other explanation, and if Corinne had seen Ralph take her walking then it was feasible that she might be jealous and, as a result, try to blacken her name with the man she hoped to marry. 'Warned you, did she?' Hal was saying with a laugh. 'As cold as charity, is Copper—nothing feminine about her--' 'You're saying that from pique!' flashed Lena. 'I expect she's repulsed you—had you weighed up, and there must be plenty more who have you weighed up! I'm going to complain,' she threatened again. 'It's not a nice thing to make a complaint to your host.' His voice was more sober now as he went on to say that it would put Mr Watkins in a very awkward position. 'Especially as he's a bosom friend of my dad,' he ended.

He sounded anxious, and although Lena realised, now he had mentioned it, that it would indeed be an embarrassment to Mr Watkins if she complained, she had no intention of putting Hal's mind at rest. 'That's too bad,' she retorted. 'Mr Watkins can have a few words with your father, advising him to keep you under control!' 'Under--!' He looked ready to strike her. 'I'm not a child, you know!' 'You're certainly not mature, or responsible! Nor are you a gentleman!' 'What fun does a gentleman have? Besides, most girls don't want one--' His voice trailed off, because Lena had started to run faster, covering the last small distance that could be covered at this pace before she was forced, for appearances' sake, to reduce her pace to normal on approaching the shed. Copper came up to her immediately she walked in, a troubled expression in her eyes. 'You've been with Hal Spittlefield,' she accused. 'How do you know?' 'It was obvious. You were dancing with him, and the next moment you'd disappeared. I was looking for you to warn you.' 'It's a pity you didn't find me in time,' returned Lena bitterly. 'I didn't know who the wretched man was, so when he suggested we go outside after that jig, which made us so hot, I agreed, never thinking he'd—he'd molest m-me.' She was on the verge of tears, recalling how eager she had been to come here, to the dance, little knowing how much misery and embarrassment was in store for her.

'He molested you?' sharply from Copper as her eyes moved to Lena's tousled hair. 'He kissed me—horribly! And Mr Douglas came by, with Corinne. It was awful!' 'The Boss saw it all? Oh, hell's bells! He'll be blazing mad! You see, as a guest at the homestead you're under his care. It's normal here. It's a wonder he didn't order you back here.' 'Order?' repeated Lena, diverted. 'Would he do that?' 'If, he felt .like it. However, you haven't got off lightly; make no mistake about that. He'll make your nerves sting when he's had you in his study, like a schoolmaster, and lashed you with that tongue of his.' Copper paused, frowning. 'I blame myself,' she went on in a vexed, regretful tone. 'I meant to point out the rake immediately we arrived here, but I forgot.' 'Never mind, Copper. You can't be blamed in any way at all. I ought not to have gone out with him—or with anyone for that matter,' Lena added, thinking of Ralph Douglas's kiss and deciding once again that this evening, which had promised such pleasure, had turned out to be a dismal failure.

CHAPTER SIX Two days went by with Lena waiting for a summons that never came, and eventually she reached the conclusion that he probably felt, in view of his own conduct, that the events of that evening had best be forgotten altogether. She saw him only at dinner time; the first evening he practically ignored her, but the second evening he did speak several times, aware —she surmised—that his attitude towards her was causing his grandmother to become curious, for often-, she would look at Ralph, then rivet her cold blue eyes on Lena's face as if trying to read something from her expression. To Lena, the whole idea of coming out here had become wrong; she had not given enough thought to it, had been influenced by Stephen's mother. Mrs Woodridge had written to her recently, expressing her happiness at knowing they were together and saying she hoped that Lena would soon make up her mind to marry Stephen. Well, she had not made up her mind. Nor had she seen much of Stephen at all, because he had been busy ever since her arrival at Coolibah Creek. Copper seemed to have sensed a deep unrest in Lena and her attempts to make her feel settled were more than obvious. Mrs Douglas, on the other hand, maintained her distant, superior attitude, speaking only when necessity or politeness called for speech, Lena thought that apart from Copper and Alice MacBane she hadn't a friend here, and the idea of leaving became more fixed in her mind with almost every hour that went by. Stephen was not invited to dinner again, but one evening, just over a week after the Watkins' shed dance, he met her in the homestead grounds and said he had a day off on the Tuesday. He asked her to spend it with him at the bungalow and stay for dinner. Lena agreed, hoping the visit would help her to dislodge some of the dejection that was becoming a dead weight on her spirits. She went immediately after breakfast, telling Copper she would not be back for dinner. On the way she stopped to chat with Alice and to play with the baby,

whose rump, as usual, was in the air. Alice asked Lena if she had made any decision about staying and marrying Stephen. 'It's so dull here for us women and we'd love to have you stay,' she added. 'If only there were more of us we could do something—form an amateur dramatic-society, for instance.' 'I can't say whether or not I shall stay—' Lena's face was masked. She added that she was rather sorry that people had taken it for granted that she had come over to marry Stephen. 'It's a serious step,' she said finally, 'and I'm taking my time.' 'I don't really blame you, but Stephen's nice, Lena.' The persuasion came through quite clearly. 'You're kind to want me, Alice, and I do appreciate it, but, as I've said, it's a serious step to take and I want a lot more time in which to think about it.' Stephen was waiting with the door wide open when Lena reached the bungalow. His smile was strained and his voice was flat as he welcomed her. 'I saw you talking to Alice MacBane,' he added, gesturing towards the living-room. 'What do you think of the baby?' 'An imp.' She spoke briefly, looking at him for a long moment before saying, 'Is there something wrong, Stephen?' 'Everything!' 'Us?' 'What else?'

'You don't give me time,' she complained. 'It isn't going to work out, I know it!' He followed her into the room and they both faced one another, neither attempting to sit down. 'It's not a bit as I imagined it.' She looked fixedly at him. 'How did you imagine it, Stephen?' she asked. 'I was far too optimistic.' He strode to the window and stood looking out, over to where a brumbie was being broken in one of the small paddocks. Chuck was enjoying himself even though it looked very much as if he'd be lucky to escape without injury. 'I felt you'd have known your own mind before this.' 'I haven't been here very long,' she pointed out. 'Long enough to have made up your mind.' He swung round to face her. 'You have made up your mind, haven't you?' She hesitated, reluctant to give him an answer. In fact, she was not quite sure of her answer ... not quite. 'I feel I should be honest and tell you what's in my mind at this moment, Stephen,' she said at length. 'You did promise to wait until I approached you, if you remember, and--' 'Yes, I did promise to wait,' he interrupted apologetically, 'but I know instinctively that you've made up your mind not to marry me. You see, at the dance, Lena, I went to all that trouble to make you jealous and it had no effect on you in the least. You weren't even angry at being left, were you?' 'I wasn't on my own; Mr Douglas was with me, so it didn't really matter. I remember hoping you were enjoying yourself.'

'Enjoying myself! When I wanted to be with you all the time? No, I was miserable—downright unhappy.' 'You didn't look it.' He shrugged and gave a small sigh. After a while he said reflectively, 'I wondered if the Boss was on the same thing that night—wanting to make Corinne jealous, so he. tacked on to you.' Lena stiffened. 'You think they'd quarrelled?' 'Well, some people seemed to think they'd had one of their tiffs. She was with Willy Challenger for supper.' Lena frowned; she could not help wondering if Stephen's suspicions were correct, but on the other hand she could not for one moment imagine Ralph Douglas acting in such a petty and, contemptible manner—'tacking' on to one girl in order to make another jealous. She spoke her thoughts aloud. __ 'I'm fairly sure; that your boss would never stoop to the sort of behaviour you're accusing him of.' 'So 1 stooped, did I?' He sounded sulky and Lena uttered a little exasperated sigh. 'Let's forget it,' she advised, wondering where her patience had gone. 'You have made up your mind not to marry me, haven't you?' he persisted, unable to let the matter drop without having an answer from her. 'Please, Stephen--'

'You needn't spare my feelings. I've been unhappy for a long time and I can stay that way!' She turned from him, saying that she was not prepared to give him an answer yet. 'Let's go for a ride, shall we?' she suggested, abruptly, changing the subject. He hesitated and then agreed to ride with her. They made their way to the saddling paddock, not speaking much at all, and Lena's spirits were as low as they could be. However, she contrived to smile and appear happy as she put her boot into the stirrup and swung into the saddle. She held the bridle, waiting for Stephen to mount, which he did, turning his horse's head away. Lena followed, her eyes on his back ... but it was another rider she. was seeing, a man superlative of his kind, a man who, she knew, held her in the deepest contempt.

It was two days later that Copper gave her the news that the Boss was flying into Nulladeri on the following Friday. 'If you want to come you're welcome,' she added. 'There's not much there, but it'll be a change for you.' 'Mr Douglas invited me?' Lena looked at her doubtfully. 'He said I could find two—the aeroplane's a fourseater. I thought of you straight away. I asked Alice, but she can't get anyone to mind Paul. Phoebe doesn't want to go. She's been the last few times and says that as there's nothing she wants to buy it would be a waste of time. There'll be just the three of us.' 'What do you do when you get there?'

'Ralph goes off and we'll look round the shops.' 'I'd very much like to go,' admitted Lena, but went on to add, 'I've felt I'm in the Boss's bad books since the night of the shed dance.' 'Hal, you mean? It's amazed me that he hasn't had you on the carpet for that.' Lena said nothing and after a moment Copper reverted to the trip into town. 'If there's anything you want to buy then make a list, because we don't know when we'll be going again.' 'I'll do that,' decided Lena and, having accepted that she would be flying into town, she found herself looking forward to it with pleasure, and a little excitement as well. Stephen was sulky when she told him. The Boss could very well have allowed him a day off so that he could have come with her. The following day she rode alone, taking the track along the creek to where the cut-off provided a shady retreat with a clump of Red River gums massed inside its curve. Here, she mused, this feature was called a billabong, but in England it was a cut-off meander.' Sometimes the water remained in it, producing an ox-bow lake. She moved into the shade and a contented sigh escaped her. Aloneness was peace, and peace was what she wanted. Thoughts of Stephen and Ralph and Hal Spittlefield and the trouble they had caused her had no place here and she was determined not to let them intrude. She sat leaning against a tree, watching Becky contentedly enjoying the grass just a few yards away. Insects hummed; a lizard rustled the grass and the sough of the breeze made music among the leaves of the eucalypts. And then she espied a tiny animal no more that four inches long, hopping about not two yards from where she sat, still as a statue and scarcely daring to breathe. It took bounds and looked like a miniature kangaroo. Its long tail flicked the air as it

bounded along, looking for spiders and insects. Fascinated, Lena had no idea anyone was about until the sound of hooves caught her ears. Ralph Douglas, splendid as ever on Tolka, making a striking silhouette against the Sun-bright hills. He rode as always with perfect precision, every movement smooth as a ship sailing a tranquil sea. He saw her, sitting there—or perhaps he had noticed Becky first. To Lena's surprise he wheeled the horse and cantered along the creek track, coming towards her. Her heart gave a plunge as she braced herself for the carpeting which Copper had predicted he would give her. Well, better to get it over and done with, she thought, feeling like a naughty schoolgirl who was about to be punished for her misdemeanours. She continued to watch him steadily ... and that feeling of restlessness she had previously experienced was upon her again. Undoubtedly this man affected her in a way that was profoundly disturbing, to say the least. Surely she was not beginning to like him in that way! Admiration was permissible—indeed one could not help but admire him, his sun-bitten good looks, that attractive slow drawl in his voice, the way he rode and walked, the way he ruled this vast estate. Yes, he demanded admiration, but Lena was beginning to suspect that what she felt for the Boss of Coolibah Creek was something more than admiration-He reached her and dismounted. 'I have something to say to you, Miss Grafton.' His voice, was hard, his eyes even harder, and they were disconcertingly wide as they looked into hers. She coloured and murmured the single word, 'yes?' and waited for his reprimand to come. 'First of all, though,' he said, throwing his bridle over a conveniently-placed branch of a tree, 'I want you to remember that

any territory beyond the immediate vicinity of the homestead is out of bounds to people like you, visitors who are apt to lose their way.' Lena nodded. 'Copper warned me not to stray far from the homestead.' 'You're a long way from it now,' he said sternly. 'Am I too far?' she queried in surprise. 'As long as you keep to the track along the creek you're all right, but I think you'd be well advised to keep some of the buildings in sight just the same.' 'I'll remember, Mr Douglas,' she returned meekly. From this point she could see neither the homestead nor any other of the buildings, but the airstrip shone clear and straight between the endless plains of spinifex grass. 'And now,' he went on briskly, 'about the other night. You went out walking with a man whose reputation is notorious. You probably didn't know, and at first I decided not to say anything about it. However, I've changed my mind because your behaviour once you were out there is not what I would expect from a guest in my house.' His eyes were glacier-cold and totally unemotional. Lena could almost believe that he had completely forgotten his own lapse and, oddly enough, she herself was not experiencing any embarrassment about it. But she was embarrassed over the incident with Hal, and she knew she had coloured painfully, feeling like a spanked child even before he added, his tone edged with contempt, 'I thought, when you came here, that it was Stephen you were interested in, but--' 'Mr Douglas, can I interrupt you? What you saw wasn't my fault. I had no idea who the man was, or that he had a reputation, and I went

out there with him because we'd been dancing and- it got very hot in the shed.' She paused to see what effect her words were having on him, because it seemed vitally important that he should be made to understand that she was not as cheap as he believed her to be. His face told her nothing; it was. a mask, taut and still. She continued, explaining what had happened, but ending with the frank admission that she should not have gone walking with the man at all. 'I didn't stop to think,' she added finally. He had listened intently and to Lena's relief she saw his face relax. 'I see--' He became thoughtful, automatically pushing his slouch hat to the back of his head. Lena could not take her eyes off him; her pulses tingled as if moved by some vague pleasure. She waited expectantly for him to speak. 'I accept your explanation, Miss Grafton. The man's a rake of the worst kind, but he seems not to care a rap for other people's opinions.' He looked down into her face and to her amazement the trace of a smile softened the stern outline of his mouth. It was no more than a flash of white teeth in an Arab- dark face, but it caused her heart to jerk and her eyes to light up with pleasure. 'Thank you, Mr Douglas,' she said fervently. 'I've been troubled by your opinion of me.' 'Does my opinion of you matter that much?' he asked, odd inflection in his voice. She coloured delicately. 'Yes,' she responded frankly, 'it does.' He let that pass, and asked instead how she was getting along with Stephen.

'I haven't been able to let him have much time off,' he added. 'You arrived at one of our busiest periods, as you're probably aware by now.' 'Yes; but it doesn't matter, Mr Douglas, if Stephen and I don't see one another every day. I came to see whether the country suits me. I think that part of it is the most important,' she added without thinking. Ralph's eyebrows lifted a fraction. 'Is it?' he said slowly. 'It's important, yes, but I should have thought that your attitude towards Stephen would have been even more important. You don't run into marriage merely because you like the place where you're going to live. Marriage, Miss Grafton, is something that should be considered very seriously before the irrevocable step is taken.' Irrevocable--So he did not believe in divorce. She wondered what he would say if he ever learned that she and Stephen had been divorced. 'I agree,' she said. 'I suppose it seems strange to you that I haven't wanted to see more of Stephen?' 'You're not enthusiastic, that's clear, in spite of that little love scene I interrupted on the day you wrenched your ankle.' Again she coloured, and turned away from his half- humorous regard. She thought about another little scene that could have had the same description put upon it—the scene when he himself had kissed her. Had he forgotten all about it? If not, it certainly didn't trouble him at all.

'I did say, right at the beginning, that I wasn't sure about marrying Stephen. Everyone here seems tO have taken too much for granted. I didn't come with the firm intention of marrying him.' She shook her head vigorously. 'I came as his friend, nothing more.' Ralph nodded absently. She did not know it, but he had been watching her intently, absorbed by the play of expression in her eyes as she spoke, noticing their colour for the very first time. 'I seem to remember your mentioning that you'd known Stephen for some long time.' He spoke at last, eyeing her curiously. 'I first met him when I was eighteen.' She had no idea why she should offer this information; it seemed to emerge of its own accord. 'That certainly is a surprise. Have you remained friends all this time?' Friends— She felt she was becoming enmeshed in a net of deceit which she ought to have avoided, since Ralph Douglas was not the kind of man who would easily forgive—of that she felt certain. 'We've known one another, yes,' was all she said, hoping the subject would be dropped. And it was, thanks to a flock of screaming galahs making for the branches of a paperbark farther along the bed of the creek. The very air trembled with the fluttering of their wings; they brought colour and movement and life to a scene of primitive silence. Lena watched the soft silver-grey of their backs turn to warm damask- pink as they swung around and upwards before landing in the tree. Ralph was similarly interested, she noticed, thinking he must have witnessed a scene such as this many times before. To Lena it was fascinating and novel. She had seen the galahs before, but never in a number like this. There was pandemonium in the lacy branches, a spectacular avian bustle which seemed as if it might go on for hours. She glanced at Ralph, to find that his attention had strayed... to her. He was staring at her; she had no idea just how attractive she looked,

with the fresh bloom of the breeze on her cheeks, the brightness of her eyes, the sheen on her hair. He seemed suddenly to frown, as if at some secret idea that troubled him. And he turned away to unhook the bridle with one hand while he pulled down the wide-brimmed hat with the other. He sprang on to the horse's back, squaring his powerful shoulders as he turned to look at Lena again. She fluttered him a smile, hoping he would respond, but his attention had been caught by a darting gecko at her feet. She glanced down at the pretty mottled creature and when she looked up again Ralph was moving off, bidding her goodbye and reminding her not to stray any further from the homestead. She watched until he was a mere speck in the distance, her mind confused by darting thoughts she could not collect into any sort of order. Ralph's manner had been strange, disturbing; she had felt poised on a knife-edge at one moment, when he looked deeply into her eyes, and she remembered his kiss, and her own profound desire that something would happen— The Boss of Coolibah Creek was altogether too attractive; he was causing her to emerge from the shell into which she had retreated on the break-up of her marriage, a shell which protected her from the risk of falling in love again. Not that she had considered this probable, seeing that her love for Stephen stayed persistently alive. However, she was realistic enough to admit that, should another attractive man come along, she might just find her affections transferred. But as the picture invariably presented the risk of another heartache, another failure, she had vowed to clothe herself with an armour of self-protection, and never discard it. But now-She thought of Corinne, a girl who had a splendid 'dowry' in the form of six thousand square miles of grazing land.She moved at last, patted Becky's neck and sprang into the saddle. The galahs moved at the

same time, wheeling up in a body, their shrieks rocketing between the branches of the paperbark. There was a fleeting impression of confetti-pink petals before they left the tree behind, the flutter of their wings again vibrating through the air. Becky was off; they cantered along the creek-bed, and Lena was thinking of Ralph Douglas when she knew she should be thinking of Stephen—

CHAPTER SEVEN LENA awoke to the laughter of the kookaburra in the tree outside her window and although she was now familiar with the sound, it never failed to bring a response, and very soon she was chuckling to herself as she slipped from the bed and put on a dressing- gown. She went to the window. Prissy had put out food on the lawn, and the jacko, joined by his mate, was even now swooping down, their wings flashing in the sunlight. 'No wonder everyone likes you,' said Lena, thinking how very human their laughter was. The sun was rising quickly, softening the harsh bushlands with a saffron sheen which spread to the foothills where light and shade mingled in a jigsaw of patterns. So silent and still the vast landscape; within the whole range of Lena's vision lay cattle country, spread over with that symbol of the Inland, spinifex grass. Its spiky tufts with their edible oats stretched as far as the eye could see and beyond, for mile after mile, into infinity, or so it seemed. Austere, inhospitable land, weathered over countless eons of time so that any dramatic geomorphological features it might once have possessed had been long since eroded away, ground down to sediments by nature's effective and powerful tools; the sediments had been washed down to the sea and even now were being cemented together again, to rise once more in a ghastly upheaval millions of years hence. Yes, austere, and untamed still, yet possessing a strange haunting beauty that was unique over the whole world. Lena felt the appeal deeply, had done so from the very first, and she found it easy to imagine why tough bronzed giants like Ralph Douglas continued the battle begun by his forebears who, pitting their strength against a territory as hostile as a desert, had laid the foundations for the prosperity now enjoyed by the wealthy Outback graziers.

Lena's eyes moved to the scene nearer the homestead. The colony of range-riders' bungalows looked neat and white in the dawning, the garden's gay with colour. The school was low and long, with a sports field close by. The hospital was small; Lena supposed it was little used, since everyone here seemed far too tough to be brought down by illnesses. The gardens of the house itself were gay, with bougainvillaea vines tumbling in glorious disarray over trellises and on the verandah supports. Trim lawns shone like green velvet in the brittle rays of the early sun; exotic flowers, shady trees, terraces and rose gardens— All that any stately home could boast, and all made possible by the artesian water brought up from below ground. Lena turned away at last, glancing at the clock and realising she had wasted precious time. It was the day of the trip to Nulladeri and Copper had warned her not to be even one minute late. 'The Boss'll do his block if you keep him waiting,' Copper said with a grin. 'He's one of those people to whom lateness is one of the worst vices one could have!' After a hasty shower Lena dressed in a white cotton, dress, sleeveless and low-cut at the neck. She looked in the mirror and saw a warm honey skin and hair that appeared to be bleached a little at the front and at the temples. She brushed it till it shone, flicked at the fringe and was satisfied with the result. A hint of lipstick, a spray of perfume and she was ready. Ralph was in the breakfast-room when she entered. 'Copper's off colour this morning,' he said. 'Oh ... I'm sorry. She won't be going to Nulladeri, then?' Disappointment mingled with concern as Lena added, 'I'll go up and see her.'

'Do that if you want, but don't be long. I must be away from here by eight o'clock.' Lena blinked at him. 'You mean—that you'll take me, even though Copper isn't coming?' He seemed amused by her surprise. 'Why not? There's room and you obviously want to go into town.' She went away to see Copper, her heart beating a little too fast. A flight into town with Ralph Douglas ... just the two of them-Copper was pale but cheerful. 'A tummy bug I got from somewhere,' she said. 'Some of the men have complained of it, but they're so. darned tough that it didn't lay them low.' 'I'm so sorry you're ill, Copper.' 'Never mind. It isn't as if I'm disappointed at not going into town. I didn't really want anything in particular.' 'Will you be in bed all day?' 'Probably.' It suddenly struck Lena that she ought to stay and keep her company, but when she suggested it Copper said she preferred to be alone. 'A day in bed's a nice break anyway. If I feel better this afternoon I'll sit back luxuriously against the pillows and read, letting Mag or Prissy wait on me. It'll be lovely.'

Satisfied that she could not be of any help, Lena . went downstairs again to join Ralph for breakfast. Immediately it was over they drove in the utility to the airstrip where the plane was waiting, Chuck priming the engines. Lena went up the three steps, and strapped in as instructed by Ralph. He took one of the two pilots' seats. The engines raced; speed was gathered and the tail wheel came up. It was a smooth take-olf, the plane lifting into the clear morning air. Ralph levelled out, setting his course, and soon the homestead and its satellite buildings merged into a mere shape behind them. Lena, looking down a short while later, espied a mob of kangaroos, the beautiful rich red of the males and the delicate blue-grey of the females. She thought about the breeding problems of these and other animals of the Australian continent. Marsupials, with their inferior reproductory organs, were unable to carry their young to the same stage of development as the placentals, so their tiny foetus was forced to finish its growth in its mother's pouch. Ralph was also looking down; he pointed out the kangaroos, not knowing if she had seen them or not. 'You know about the joey having to make its way through its mother's fur, and find the pouch, I suppose?' 'Yes; it's fascinating! The joey's only about an inch long, isn't it?' 'Cajj be only half an inch. It is fascinating, I agree,' he went on conversationally. 'Especially when you look at the size of its parents. The joey could grow to a height of six or seven feet.' 'Anci it starts life at only half an inch.' Lena shook her head, casting her glance downwards again. Every female in the mob would have a joey in its pouch, for when one left it another immediately took over and occupied it. Ralph went on to tell her more about it, how, if a red kangaroo lost its joey through drought or other hardship, there was always another, which she had kept in a state of suspended growth,

and which would have remained in this stage of its development if the first joey had still been occupying the pouch. 'Do you mean,' said Lena, deeply interested, 'that if a joey is lost before its normal time for leaving the pouch, the mother can automatically bring on the growth of another, so that it will occupy the pouch?' 'That's right. It's the old question of the survival of the species and adaptation to environment. The animals of the interior have a hard time, but nature always balances things up and most animals survive.' 'Except when man interferes,' said Lena, thinking about the delightful koala bears and how the first settlers had them practically extinct by their indiscriminate killing. 'Man, eh?' Ralph sounded satirical. 'You're one of those who blames man for everything that goes wrong in the world.' 'I didn't specifically mean the male of our species,' she said defensively. 'But yes, I think you must agree with me on that point. Man is the destroyer and it won't be until he's extinct himself that the world will recover from the devastation he has wrought—and it's in a very short space of time, remember.' To her surprise he laughed. 'You mean of course that man hasn't been on the earth for very long—in terms of geological time, that is?' 'Well, he hasn't, has he?' 'No, you're quite right, he hasn't.' 'And look at the damage he's done.'

Ralph turned his head. 'It's obvious that you feel very strongly about it,' he said in some amusement. 'What would you suggest can be done?' 'Nothing, It's gone too far.' 'A pessimist lives a very unhappy life, Miss Grafton.' 'You think I'm a pessimist?' Strangely she resented his implication, partly because it was not true. 'I'm a realist, certainly, but that's not the same by any means.' 'A realist,' he repeated almost to himself. 'I would have taken you for an idealist, Miss Grafton.' 'When one's ideals have been shattered then one must admit to realism being a more practical way of looking at life.' She spoke without thinking and would have done anything to withdraw her words. She had been in the past, when her ideals had been shattered by the blow given her by her husband. She held her breath now, wondering what Ralph Douglas would say. 'So you've had your ideals shattered, have you? You're young to be a cynic,' he added, glancing down again to the monotonous terrain above which they were flying. Apart from the marbled effect of light and shade created by the thin veil of floating cloud there was nothing to relieve the scene of mile upon mile of flat uninteresting scrubland. 'I'm not a cynic,' she denied, once again piqued by his opinion of her. 'I've already said I'm a realist.' He was silent for a moment and then, 'Tell me about yourself,' he invited unexpectedly.

She gave a small start, wondering greatly at this change in him. She could not help recalling how cold and aloof he had been with her since the dance. But when she had explained he had become friendly again, though still maintaining that reserve which was obviously an inherent part of him. Now, however, even the-reserve was dropped! He was interested in her, or appeared to be. She began to talk about her childhood, then went on to tell him about the death of her mother and the remarriage of her father. She skipped over the past years, managing very well, she thought, to conceal the fact that she had been married to Stephen. However, she was a trifle disconcerted when he said, in his slow attractive drawl, 'I was looking out for the part where your ideals were shattered. I rather think, Miss Grafton, that you've missed something out.' She hesitated, searching for words. But finding none that would provide him with the explanation he desired she said simply, 'Yes, I have missed something out, Mr Douglas. It's one of those things one doesn't want to talk about.' 'I see....' He became thoughtful, lapsing into silence. He was looking down and Lena lowered her own eyes; from her window she saw another mob of kangaroos, beginning their search for the day's food. They stopped their zig-zagging pattern of movement to stand stock still, frozen into immobility by the sound of the plane's engines, drumming above them. 'Look, there's a brumbie!' Lena was saying a short while later when they were passing over a terrain even more sparsely covered than that which had gone before. Here, the red-ochre of the earth could often be seen between the tufts of harsh dry grass. The brumbie was on a slight rise, proud and motionless, its ears alert to the sound of the

engines. A magnificent animal it was, shimmering white in the sunshine. She hoped it would never be caught and tamed. 'Isn't it beautiful?' 'Very,' agreed Ralph. 'Pity he's not closer to home; we'd have him in and break him.' So casual he sounded. Lena could not help the retort that rose to her lips. 'I sincerely hope he's never caught and broken!' * 'Ah, the idealist I spoke about,' he said with a hint of amused triumph in his voice. 'I love animals—all animals!' 'Most women do,' he said. 'Because we're soft, you're thinking.' There was a defensive quality to her voice that made him laugh. 'All women are not soft,' he corrected. 'But I think you'll agree that softness doesn't line up very well with realism.' She frowned at that, endeavouring to concentrate. 'You can be soft and still be a realist,' she said decisively at last. 'No, I have to disagree. However, let's change the subject, shall we, before it gets too deep?' A strange enigmatic man, she decided, vaguely aware that he had been trying to pump her. And as this was so out of character she did wonder what reason there could be for his wanting to know more about, .her—no, not just more, but her innermost secrets. The conversation lagged after that and Lena contented herself with viewing the scene down below. Another brumbie came into her vision. For a moment he stood as still as the other, then lifted his head

to follow the flight path. A few emus were seen, and then a whole herd of wild horses. A little later a mob of wallabies was sighted, and as Lena watched they seemed to panic at the sound above them, for they scattered in all directions. A region of stunted trees followed a small tract of undulating country which provided a slight diversity to a scene of almost total monotony. At last the town came into view; Ralph Douglas's long brown fingers moved the throttle levers and the engines slowed down. Rooftops came up, and it was possible to read a sign hanging from a shop window. Ralph kept the plane on a smooth and even keel as he eased it down to land, with no more than a couple of bumps, on the smooth airstrip at the top end of the town. 'I'd better meet you for lunch,' Ralph was saying a short while later. 'If you'd had Copper with you it wouldn't have .mattered, but as it is you're going to have to be on your own. So it'll make a break if we have lunch together.' 'I don't mind,' said Lena, troubled that she was inconveniencing him. 'It's all new to me and I'm sure I can find plenty to do.' She smiled up at him, vitally aware of his attractiveness—the handsome features, bronzed and noble, his erect wide shoulders and narrow hips, the sinewed limbs which gave the impression of boundless energy and strength. A man of imperious will and determination, he would have little time for the failings of others, she thought. 'I'll meet you,' was all he said in response to her words, and the inflection in his voice was more than enough to warn her not to voice any further protest. She wandered down the main street of the town, noticing as she looked in the shop windows that it would be possible to buy most of one's necessities here. She bought a pair of denims for riding, and a couple of checked shirts. A sweater for the evenings would be useful,

she decided, and promptly entered another store where she had seen a coral-coloured one in the window. It suited her and she bought it, then wandered along the street again wondering where Ralph Douglas had gone. Copper mentioned something about the bank, and Lena supposed that the bank would be a must whenever a grazier came into town. He was perhaps meeting friends, or business acquaintances as well, mused Lena, often glancing around, thinking that perhaps she would see him somewhere. Ralph met her at the appointed place and she was careful not to be late. He took her to a cafe and they ate a good lunch of mutton chops, sausages and fried potatoes. There was no sweet offered, but the cheese board was appetising and they finished off with cheese and biscuits and coffee. ~ 'Did you manage to get all you wanted?' Ralph asked conversationally while they were eating. 'Yes, thank you. Although it wouldn't have mattered if I hadn't, as I brought everything I thought I'd need out with me.' He nodded his head. 'I expect Stephen told you what you'd need?' 'Yes, he did.' As a matter of fact, it was to his mother that he had written the letter giving a list of what she would need, Lena remembered. She remembered too her mother-in-law's reaction as she handed the list to Lena. 'It's going to cost you a lot of money, and for my part I think you'd do better to manage with what you have and save that money for when you and Stephen set up house again.'

Lena had been very diplomatic about this piece of advice, although her temper had flared and she recalled that her mother-in-law had remarked that Lena's cheeks had taken on a little tint of colour. 'Well, I must be off again,' Ralph was saying when eventually they finished their coffee. 'I'll meet you here at four o'clock.' Lena wandered about again, feeling glad that Ralph had insisted on meeting her at lunch time, since there was nothing to do in this town, with its one main street, dusty and narrow, and beyond it a mere sprinkling of houses, low and squat with higgledy- piggledy tin roofs. But at last she and Ralph met again and soon they were in the plane, leaving the town behind as the climb was made, into the vibrancy of a sapphire sky, with the wide plains stretching away in front of them. It was exhilarating; she felt as light as the air in which they were travelling. She thought: 'It's a long time since I was as happy as this, as free from the weight of dejection as I am at this moment.' She looked down, to where the myrtle-green tussocks of porcupine grass, prolific and bushy, provided fodder for the mob of Asian cattle that was grazing there, the stockmen moving about in their midst. Ralph named the man who owned the station, and then another as they passed over it, taking a different route from the one they had used on coming out. This puzzled Lena until she was told that they were making a drop down at Faraway Creek to see a friend of his, Philip Grady, who had been ill. 'Copper mentioned him,' said Lena reflectively. 'He owns a very large station, she was telling me.' 'That's right. Faraway Creek extends to over five thousand square miles of Outback country.' Lena shook her head, awed. 'I still can't imagine a farm of that size,' she said with a self-depreciating little laugh. 'The mind boggles at the

very idea. How on earth do you all manage to look after so much land?' 'It isn't as difficult as one would imagine,' he told her casually. 'There are many villages—such as the one we have close to the homestead, with houses and a school and shops. There are the stockmen and yardmen and rouseabouts at every settlement, so, if the owner holds on to the reins as he should, everything runs quite smoothly.' He lapsed into silence after that. The last of the two stations was left far behind and Lena closed her eyes, a little wearied by the never-ending vista of unproductive land. It was about half an hour later that Ralph Douglas spoke, but he had uttered only a couple of words when he stopped abruptly and Lena, although sitting behind him, had the impression that he was frowning. She watched, saw his head move as if he were looking intently at one or other of the dials in front of him. A long silence followed; he now appeared to be listening, alert, tensed for swift action. She looked down, to where an umbrella of coolibah trees shaded a billabong; a flock of emus looked startled, and scattered, disappearing among the trees. It was subtly different, this type of country, and she continued to Look down; the aspect was harshly forbidding and she realised that they were flying over a terrain of semi-desert even more austere than any she had yet seen. Her glance moved to Ralph and again she had the impression that he was tensed. She opened her mouth to speak, to ask if something was the matter, but immediately changed her mind, certain that he was not in the mood for answering questions. She could only wait, realising that she herself was becoming tensed, that her heartbeats were just that little bit faster than was normal. She looked down again and to her surprise saw rising land with a valley

between, a green valley, but with desert at both sides of it. Ralph Douglas spoke at last, his voice curt and short. 'You're strapped in?' he asked. Her heart gave a little lurch. 'Yes, of c-course.' 'I'm about to make a forced landing,' he said calmly. 'There's nothing to worry about; we shan't crash.' She could not think of anything to say for a moment. But she was thinking fast, thinking about being lost in this terrible desert, lost and perhaps never to be found alive-He was speaking again, asking if she understood what he meant. 'Yes, I understand.' She hoped the fear was not apparent in her voice, for it was very strong within her. How did he know that he would not crash? she wondered. He told her to sink down in her seat as low as she could get. She obeyed at once, aware that speed was being reduced, that the. sides of the valley were of bare rock and that the green she had seen was only a covering for red-ochre rocks lying close to the surface. How could he land on ground as rough as that? 'These planes are made for this rugged terrain of the Outback,' he was saying, just as if he could read her thoughts. 'They have excellent take-off and landing qualities.' Lena spoke at last. 'Is it the engine?' she said, and saw him nod his head. 'One's lost--'

'Lost!' ejaculated Lena, her mental vision one of an engine breaking off and streaming down to earth. 'The throttle's broken. But the second engine isn't right either and that's why I can't risk going on. It's losing revs and I can't take any chances. We'll be better down here, in the valley, than landing out in the open where we won't get any shade.' So calm! And yet surely his heart must be beating overrate like hers? Strangely, though, she felt safe, confident that even if the landing was not smooth he would manage to ensure that they were not injured. The plane was fast losing height now, sliding as if being drawn into the valley by some huge magnet. Lena tried to keep calm, but her whole body trembled, the result of rioting nerves, she thought, holding tightly on to her seat belt even while fully aware that it was doing her no good at all. She also realised that Ralph had been tinkering about with the radio but had given it up to concentrate fully on the landing he was soon to make. Lena felt her skin go clammy as, the plane came lower and lower, with the valley sides seeming too narrow to take the wing span; he would hit the rocks, he must! Lower still he brought the plane and Lena's grip on her seat belt became so tight that her knuckles showed pearly-white and looked almost ready to break through the skin that covered them. Suddenly there was a thud, then a high lift that was more than a bounce. The whole plane shuddered and seconds later the brake lever was on and the machine slewed to a stop. Lena felt she must pass right out with relief; there was a rushing noise in her ears and her stomach felt hollow. She hoped she was not as white as she felt, . hoped she could hide her fear from Ralph Douglas. He had turned, issuing an order for her to get out quickly, and she realised he was afraid of the plane bursting into flames.

She got out, and they stood together, watching the plane. Eventually Ralph turned his head and slanted her a glance. 'Weren't you afraid?' he wanted to know. 'In all honesty I was,' she admitted. 'But I suppose that, deep down inside me, I was philosophical, ready to accept whatever fate had in store for me.' She lifted a hand to brush back the hair that had come forward, over the fringe. The tendrils were damp and so was her forehead. She had not thought that the clamminess of her body had spread to her brow. She looked at Ralph and hoped he had not seen it. To admit to being afraid was one thing, but to be in a cold sweat savoured too much of cowardice and she was in no doubt at all that Ralph Douglas would feel nothing but contempt for anything of that nature. 'A fatalist too,' he murmured almost to himself. 'What is fate, and where does its caprices lead us?' Startled, she drew back, suddenly afraid of him, and of the stark isolation of this place, this deep valley with its rock-hewn sides and the desert beyond. She asked where they were and he shrugged his broad shoulders. 'What does it matter? We're lost in the heart—the Never-Never—and if I can't get that radio working we might have a trying time before us.' He was regarding her closely as he spoke, his hard implacable features unreadable and taut. 'We'll be here all night?' Was she sorry ... or glad? Alone in this wilderness with a man as attractive as Ralph Douglas, a man who had already kissed her-She glanced around, saw a pool some way away, then another, and realised that these were little rock pools in the bed of the creek, a bed

that was otherwise dry, but that obviously overflowed in the Wet because there were trees in the valley, and fern-like plants and lacy maidenheads leaning over a little rock ledge above one of the pools. She looked at Ralph, then followed the direction of his gaze. The sky was pearl-grey, the sun's rays slanting, sending long shadows on to the side of the valley, rays that shone golden against the naked rock and highlighted the numerous little plants that grew in the crevices. This was a rather lovely place when examined properly, decided Lena, wondering why her companion had not answered her question. Perhaps he considered it a stupid one, since it was most improbable that they would be rescued tonight. Even if they were located it was unlikely that they could be taken out of here in the dark. She spoke again, asking if they would have to be taken up the rock face by ropes. 'It just depends on the length of this valley. It looked endless from the air.' 'Haven't you seen it before?' she asked in surprise. 'No, I've never flown over this part of the Inland before." I've come a long way out of my way,' he added, 'in order to find somewhere where we could be sure of water if we were forced to stay for any length of time. I knew about this valley, but it was a hit or a miss as to whether I would find it. I dared not carry on too long with those engines giving out the way they were.' He stopped and looked at her straightly. 'We could be here for days and even weeks if I don't get the radio going.' She frowned, trying to absorb what he had said. 'But surely we can get out of this valley—make some effort to find our way... ,' She let her voice trail away to silence as he shook his head.

'In the Outback, Miss Grafton, one never starts to roam about trying to find one's way back home. You stay with your vehicle—or in this case the plane. And if you happen to have found water then the last thing you do is to leave it to wander about, because it's a hundred to one that you'll lose that water and not be able to find it again.' She nodded, seeing the sense of this. But to have to stay here, perhaps for weeks ... with Ralph Douglas— 'Surely people would have found us if we'd kept to the normal route,' she said as the thought occurred to her. 'Certainly they would—if I'd returned home on the normal route. But I diverted almost immediately we left Nulladeri as I'd decided to visit Philip Grady at Faraway Creek. I'd have refuelled there, of course.' 'How far is it from Coolibah Creek?' 'Over two hundred miles—so you see how remote the chances are that we shall be found quickly. It would be a chance in a thousand if someone flying over spotted us within the next day or two.' 'Does no one ever come to this valley?' Again she glanced around, thinking how pretty it was despite the harsh rock formations that made up the sides of the steep defile. She looked along its length. It seemed to go on and on, in a wavy line and in both directions. It was really only now that she appreciated the vast- ness of the interior, the incredible amount of land that was uninhabited. 'Why should anyone come here?' Ralph Douglas was saying with the hint of derision in his voice. 'The valley here might be fertile and have some water, but what have you outside it? Desert, miles and miles of desert.' She nodded understandingly.

'What do we do now?' she asked, thinking that water was all right but what about food? He told her that emergency supplies were always carried in every plane, so for a few days there would be no need to worry too much. 'However,' he went on in his quiet, attractive tones, 'we'll have to eat sparingly--' He cast his glance towards one of the pools in the bed of the creek. 'I daresay we can supplement our diet with fish,' he j added, then left her to stroll along the bank towards the pool. Lena watched him standing there, looking down into the water. He nodded slowly, then his eyes wandered to another pool much farther along, its still waters gleaming bright in the light from the setting sun. He came back to her, tall and straight and untroubled. 'Yes,' he said in a satisfied voice, 'we can certainly count on having some fish.' 'What kind are they?' she asked, suddenly wondering if all this was happening. Ralph seemed sp calm, just as if being lost in the middle of this vast continent was no more hazardous than being lost in the middle of Sydney or Brisbane. 'Freshwater mullet, I should say at a guess. I'll set a line tomorrow. Meanwhile, I shall have a try to get the radio working. If I succeed then our troubles will of course be over. We should be rescued some time I tomorrow.' He looked up, to stare at the rock wall of the valley. 'This is no more than a gulley,' he said. 'A mere narrow channel worn out of the rocks by the action of water.' 'The river would have a lot of water in it at times?' Ralph nodded.

'In the Wet, yes. This stream would rampage. The water must go underground, of course, some way along its bed.' 'And that's how you get' water up again, through the bores?' Again he nodded. 'It's the artesian water that's made habitation possible in the Outback.' He moved away then, back to the plane, where he spent the next half hour or so tinkering with the radio, but to no avail, and he was frowning when at length he came out again. Lena had wandered along the bed of the creek, one half of her excited by the situation, affected by the loneliness, which was far far more apparent than that which surrounded the homestead. The other half of her was conscious of fear, of a tenseness which had its" origin in the fact that they might never be found, that she and Ralph could die here, and she wondered with a shudder which one of them would go first. She had strolled back to the plane when he emerged, the frown on his forehead. 'Nothing,' he said tautly. 'However, I'll try again tomorrow, perhaps with some success. For the present, we'll have something to eat before it gets dark. I'll light a fire and keep it burning. It'll attract the attention of anyone flying over.' 'Is it likely that anyone will be flying over?' 'Most unlikely, I should say. I've never flown over this territory before and neither has anyone I know, since if they had they'd have mentioned this valley— or, to be more correct, this gulley.' Again his eyes wandered to the naked side which he and Lena were facing. The sun's rays had lengthened and dimmed and now it was almost twilight—awesome and unfathomable. Lena thought that moon

landscape must be something like this—without the creek bed, that was… 'We'll get out some of the emergency supplies,' he was saying. 'You can sleep in the plane; I'll settle for out here. There are sleeping bags in the plane.' Lena thought of the homestead. She and Ralph would not have been missed yet—at least, no one would be worried until much later in the evening. But then they would worry, simply because they hadn't had a radio message from the Boss. Her thoughts naturally turned to Stephen, who would spend an anxious night, and to Copper and Chuck and all the rest who would be greatly troubled. There was Corinne, who would receive the news over the radio, most likely from Mrs Douglas. Lena turned at last, to follow Ralph who was walking towards the plane. A quarter of an hour later they were sitting in total silence, eating emergency rations which Ralph had taken from a tin and a packet.

CHAPTER EIGHT Two days and nights passed and Ralph had still not made any headway with the radio. It was dead, he told Lena, and seemed resigned to leaving it alone. That he was frustrated by his inability to get it working was very apparent, since his manner with Lena was almost always one of impatience. He was bored, intolerably so, at the inactivity. He had made a line from some nylon thread he found in the emergency supplies and had caught several fish which they had cooked in the hot ash at the outer edge of the fire. Lena spent most of her time wandering along the valley, making discoveries, more often than not actually enjoying the isolation, the deep silence. She wondered if any other human had ever trodden where she was treading and thought that perhaps the primitive inhabitants of the continent had been here; perhaps it was part of their Dreamtime landscape. Birds came —roseate cockatoos looking for seeds in the cool green fern gullies that came down the sides of the valley; a flock of emus came regularly to graze on the grassy banks of the rock pools, and kookaburras came at intervals looking for lizards or snakes which they caught in their dagger-like bills and battered to death against a rock or the trunk of a tree. On one occasion Lena saw a brush-turkey scratching among dead leaves for insects and fruits and seeds, and one evening at sundown an eagle flew over the valley, massive and frightening, its wing-span at least six feet, though Ralph told her that these eagles often had a wing- span of seven and a half feet. One night she heard the bark of a dingo, very close, and she wondered what Ralph was doing, out there in his sleeping bag, his feet to the fire for warmth. He seemed to be lost in thought for most of the time, speaking to her only at mealtimes. She fell to musing on the life which his forebears had led. There were no refinements, nothing but this kind of life, plus the struggles against marauding Abos, against droughts and bush fires. Ralph Douglas was a true descendant of

those tough, intrepid pioneers; he had inherited their love of peace and isolation, and their fearlessness. Often Lena would think of the possibility of their perishing out here, and a great wave of terror would rise to suffocate her. To die slowly, watching . Ralph dying too-- But he, on the other hand, never seemed to worry about such an eventuality; he was an optimist, she had discovered; he appeared to think that it was only a matter of time before they - were rescued. On the third day they both heard what sounded like the droning of an aeroplane engine some long way off and they heaped more wood on the fire to create a huge column of smoke, but nothing happened. If it had been a plane they heard then the occupants had not noticed the smoke. 'You'd better collect some more wood,' Ralph told Lena. He himself had chopped down several small gum trees, using the axe which was always kept stored' in the plane. Lena had often busied herself with the collection of small branches that had fallen off the trees, and dry grasses and the like. It was mid- morning and Ralph had been more talkative than usual, but at his order she went off on her own to collect wood for replenishing the fire. She went along the bank of the creek, admiring as always the pretty overhanging ferns that dipped into the rock pools, the delicate creepers among the rocks themselves, some with dainty white florets shaped like jasmine, and perfumed almost as sweetly. For some reason she could never afterwards explain, she forgot all about the wood she was supposed to collect, and instead began to pick flowers for a posy which she would put into a tumbler she had found in the plane. The flowers would look charming in her 'bedroom', she thought as she reached up to pick an orchid, its colour a very dark brown—almost black. Other flowers were soon added to her posy, and some feathery ferns-to provide the necessary green background.

So engrossed was she in her tender task that she never noticed the thick green slime that had collected on the boulders in the river bed, slime whose growth was caused by water dripping from the springs above. She slipped, flailing the air as she attempted to regain her balance, but her feet shot from under her and she was on her back in seconds, crying out as her head hit the jagged rim of one of the boulders. Ralph came running; she was lifted to the bank. 'What happened?' he asked, eyeing the posy which she had clung to despite the fall. 'What on earth were you doing in the river?' She could have cried with the pain in her head, but she was feeling exceedingly foolish as well, aware at this late stage that she ought not to have been wasting her time on trivialities like collecting flowers for a posy. 'I wanted some flowers,' she was forced to admit, in a lame, apologetic little voice. 'I'm very sorry--' 'Sorry! You stupid little fool! I don't want you ill on my hands--!' He was probing her head at the place where she had been rubbing it, and his hands were far from gentle. 'An open wound! I could give you a damned good hiding!' He was furious, and Lena could not blame him, but she found herself weeping all the same. She was sorry for what she had done, but equally sorry for herself. 'You're—you're hurting m-me,' she complained. 'Please leave it—it'll be all right--' 'Hurting you!' he thundered. 'I'll hurt you more than this if you run any risks like that again! Go into the plane,' he ordered, 'and stay there! I'll have to give you some first aid, but that fire must be refuelled first! We don't want to miss the chance of .

rescue--' He broke off, grinding his teeth as he saw the bloodstain on the cuff of his shirt. 'If it isn't just like a woman to think of flowers at a time like this!' She was helped roughly to her feet and propelled along towards the aeroplane. But half way there she was overcome with dizziness and although she fought to hold on to her senses, blackness descended upon her and she lost consciousness.

Ralph was above her when she opened her eyes. Memory was not long delayed and she heard herself say, 'I'm very sorry, Mr Douglas--' 'Be quiet!' he ordered roughly. 'You've bandaged my head.' She put a hand to it and added swiftly, scarcely aware of what she was saying, 'I hope you haven't cut any of my hair off.' 'I've had to cut a little off,' he told her ruthlessly. And he added, just as if he had to, 'It would have served you right if I'd cut off the lot! I'll not deny that it would have afforded me a great deal of satisfaction to have done so!' Her lip quivered. She said tautly, 'Well, thank you for bandaging it up, anyway.' A silence followed, and then to her astonishment the glimmer of an amused smile touched his lips and was reflected in his eyes. 'You're very sorry for yourself, aren't you?' he said, 'Let it teach you a lesson in obedience. When I give an order I expect it to be carried out, understand?'

She said meekly, 'Yes, Mr Douglas, I understand.' 'How is the pain?' he asked then, his tone just a little bit softer than before. 'It isn't too bad at all.' She tried to sit up but was pushed down again. 'Is it a very big wound?' 'Too big for my liking. It could prove troublesome.' She bit her lip. 'It was foolish of me,' she quivered. 'Exceedingly foolish!' 'The flowers looked so tempting--' She broke off and turned away. She seemed to be saying one silly thing after another. 'I put them in the drinking-glass,' he said, staggering her by the admission. She gaped at him disbelievingly, and said what was in her mind. 'I could rather see you throwing them on to the fire.' Again that glimmer of amusement before he spoke. 'My first impulse was to do just that, but then I thought: why take it out on the flowers? So I gave them the drink they needed.' What an unpredictable man! He'd have loved to cut off all her hair, leaving her quite bald, but he was loath to destroy the flowers she had picked. Perhaps, she mused, that was a reflection of his opinion of her sex.

'Thank you for saving them,' she murmured at length, and craned round to find them. 'They look lovely,' she commented. 'I knew they would.' 'Could you do with a drink?' he asked, putting a finger beneath the bandage to see if it was too tight. Satisfied, he withdrew his hand, but accidentally brushed her cheek as he did so. Every nerve in her body seemed to quiver at the contact. She said swiftly, 'Just water, please, Mr Douglas.' He brought it, watched her drain the glass thirstily, then took it from her. 'Feeling better?' His blue eyes regarded her with an unfathomable expression. 'Yes, thank you, Mr Douglas.' 'I think we can dispense with the Mr Douglas under circumstances such as these,' he said, surprising her yet again. 'Shall I call you—Boss?' she asked with a touch of diffidence. 'While we're here you can call me Ralph. When we get back home it will be different.' 'I can't call you—that,' she returned, aware that her cheeks had coloured a little. He laughed lightly. ''Try,' he advised, 'because I don't happen to be in the mood to allow any further flaunting of my orders.' Soft the voice but inflexible. Lena felt she would avoid calling him anything. She said after a small silence,

'I ought to be getting up.' She was on the makeshift bed in the passenger cabin of the plane and she tried to rise from the cushion he had put under her head. Ralph pushed her back and told her to stay where she was. 'You'll get up when I say you can,' he added inexorably. 'But the wood for the fire--' She. could see it going out owing to the neglect of the past hour or so. 'Don't be so damned silly. You're in no fit condition to go out wood-gathering—thanks to your stupidity, and to your disobedience.' There was an impenetrable quality in his voice that puzzled her. She had the strange feeling that his sternness was only a pose—or, at most, half-hearted. He seemed to be concerned in a different way from what would be normal with anyone else in her position ... concerned in a more personal way--

The fireglow was warm and bright, the smell of cooking fish appetising, the atmosphere friendly,.. almost intimate. Six days they had been together in the wilderness, six days when they had had several 'alerts', when wood would be tossed speedily on to the fire to send up a cloud of black smoke that might mean their rescue. But they were still here. 'Is the fish done?' Ralph was sitting with his back to a tree but not leaning against it. He was doing something with a hook—a fish-hook—but he had glanced up to look at Lena who was squatting before the fire, the glow on her face and in her eyes. 'It smells as if it's

ready to start burning. You'll have to buck your ideas up if you're going to marry Stephen.' She looked at him across the firelight. He had six days' stubble on his face; his shirt was torn and grubby, his trousers creased and dusty. Her own clothes were not much better, although both she and Ralph had managed to do some washing, mainly underwear. 'I'm not marrying Stephen,' she said decisively. 'Why?' She bent to attend to the fish, to bring it off the burning ash. 'I'm not in love with him,' she said at last. 'How long have you known that?' She looked up, frowning. 'I told you, right at the beginning, that we were only friends.' 'Are you in love with anyone else?' He laid the fish-hook down carefully on a stone by his side. She gave a start. Surely he had not guessed! No, he must never guess! 'Of course not,' she answered, injecting a lightness into her voice. 'I haven't had much to do with men since coming here, so how could I have fallen in love with anyone else?' He smiled then, a slightly sardonic smile. 'You're not very flattering,' he said.

'You mean—that I implied that you aren't a man--?' She broke off, flustered. 'You're different,' she added lamely after a pause. 'Different? In what way?' 'Well... for one thing, you're the Boss of Coolibah Creek, and for another you have—have—Corinne— Miss Watson.' 'So I have,' he returned, as if he had just remembered the fact. 'I wonder what they're all thinking? I expect they'll be losing hope now, believing we're dead, out there, in the waterless bush.' Lena automatically touched her head at the place where it had been hurt. The bandage was off and she could feel the hardness of the scab which had formed along the gash. 'The fish is ready,' she said, reaching for the plates he had put on the ground beside her. 'There's some cheese for afterwards, and crackers.' He shook his head. 'No cheese or biscuits, Lena. We're becoming rather desperate.' 'I thought so,' she admitted. 'How—how long can we last?' 'As long as I can catch fish, and we have water— indefinitely. However, we do need variety for as long as we can get it, hence the conservation of the cheese.' She was pale as she passed him the fish on a plate. They had no salt, no bread-When the meal was over he washed the plates and put them, away in the plane. Lena sat by the fire, thinking about home and how little she had known, when she left England, what was in store for her. She slanted Ralph a glance as he returned. He had been different ever

since the accident, less austere yet more reserved, as if he were battling against something within. Today he had taken her hand in his and said, 'You're a brave little girl, Lena, and as long as I do have to be here then I'd rather have you with me than anyone else.' Her heart had turned a somersault, but the next * moment he was striding away from her, anger in every step he took. Plainly he regretted that little demonstration of intimacy. 'I think I'll go to bed,' she was saying a few minutes after he had joined her. 'Goodnight, Ralph.' His name came easily now and she wondered how she would be able to call him anything else when they returned to the homestead ... if they ever did return.'You've only just had your dinner. It's only half- past seven.' 'I know, but there's nothing to do.' He was standing close, towering above her. His hand came down to hers as he stooped and she was brought to her feet, every nerve in her body quivering with expectancy. 'Perhaps,' he said softly, 'we could find something to do.' She stiffened, yet allowed herself to be drawn into his arms, nor did she protest when his lips met hers.., or when his hand strayed to the curve of her breast. 'How have you reached the age of twenty-six without having been married?' His face was above hers, and with the firelight on it it seemed more handsome than ever despite the beard he was growing. 'It seems impossible; you're too beautiful' His mouth was close, his cool clean breath a caress on her lips. She strained against him of her own accord, sensed his satisfaction as he tightened his hold upon her,

crushing her to his hard, virile body. She thought: something will happen tonight. It was bound to happen if we were here too long. Resignation was in her mind. She had discovered that she loved him, and love was in her eyes as she pressed her face against his shoulder. His hand on her breast was temptation, the hardness of his body the lodestone that could bring her to surrender. 'You haven't answered my question,' he whispered, and drew away so that he could see her face. But she kept it where it was, and he had to force her head around, his hand beneath her chin. She managed to draw a mask over her expression, but she had no answer to his question because she had no intention of telling the truth, or of lying. 'Does it matter?' she quivered, clinging to him, yearning for his kiss ... and a more intimate caress-'Not really.' His hand was at the front of her blouse, undoing the buttons. And then it was cupping her breast, sending vibrations through her whole body, filling her with a yearning she was unable to control. The firelight was dying and she could not see his face any more, not clearly, that was. But she wondered if she would read contempt there; she knew for sure she would not see love. And suddenly, just as he was about to pick her up and carry her to the plane, she thought of what would happen when they were rescued and they were back to reality, in the homestead. Corinne--Mrs Douglas with her searching eyes that seemed to see into your very heart and mind, and even your soul. Piercing eyes, and hostile. There was Copper, and what of Stephen? Well, at least he did not matter any more. She did not love him—how could she when she had fallen madly, wildly, in love with this man who was holding her, tempting her with every second that passed ... a man who could never be hers--

No, Stephen did not matter. And it was a relief to discover that he would no longer trouble her, that she could go to him and tell him once and for all that she had no intention of marrying him. 'Lena--' Soft the voice and Ralph was already lifting her off the ground. 'The night's romantic, and I'd like to make love to you out here, but it wouldn't seem right, somehow, so we'll go into the plane--' 'No!' She wrenched herself free and put her feet on the ground. 'I'm going to the plane, but not with you! Goodnight!' She started to run, but he caught her wrist and she fell against him with the jerk he gave her. Once again she was in his arms, and this time they were not gentle, nor was his mouth as he pressed it to hers, forcing her lips apart, his hand at her back, sliding into the waist of her slacks. Lena twisted and struggled, her heart throbbing as if it would burst. She must fight him, she must—to keep her self-respect... and to keep his. Yes, that was the most important thing, to keep his respect, for she could not bear it if he despised her, considered her to be cheap, a girl easily tempted, and conquered. 'Let me go,' she sobbed, 'please! I don't want--' 'Isn't it a bit late to put on an act like this?' he said with a laugh that she hated. 'What's the idea, do you want me to fight for it?' 'You're detestable!' she cried, thumping his chest with her fists. 'Let me go! What are you going to think of yourself when we get back!' 'We'll both forget it,' he said, and now his voice had a careless little ring. 'We're merely finding the obvious diversion in circumstances that were bound to defeat any good resolutions we both might have had in the beginning. Come on, Lena. You know you can't fight this thing. Were there others with us it would have been different, but we're here alone, hundreds of miles from anywhere, with the prospect

of being here for weeks yet, or even months. In fact, we might never be found--' 'We will be! You're only saying that for your own ends! You've been optimistic up till now, and I believe you're still optimistic!' 'And if I am? Does it make any difference?' He seemed amused, considering her to be stupid in making this stand. Perhaps it was a little late, she admitted to herself; nevertheless she intended to fight him, and if he took her it would have to be by force. 'You'll despise yourself once you're back home --' She got no further. He brought her to him with an almost brutal jerk; he took her face in his hand, holding it firm, so that there was no evading his hard demanding mouth as it took hers. The arrogance came through, the mastery. He was the Boss and she was unwise to forget it. His wishes were paramount, hers unimportant. She felt his hand on her breast again and quivered involuntarily at the contact of flesh with flesh. Naturally she continued to struggle, but it was availing her nothing. In fact, it was amusing Ralph that she did struggle, for not only was her strength puny in comparison to his, but he firmly believed she was fighting merely for effect, and that surrender would come gladly in the end. Would it...? The question staggered her. And yet why should it? She loved him and wanted him—more than anything she was in the right mood for love— but she was wise enough to look ahead, to the time when this was something to forget, to be ashamed of, and she would have to leave Coolibah Creek, run from the man whom she could no longer face. He would treat her with indifference; he would turn again to Corinne, the girl he wanted to marry—not for love but for the property which she would one day add to the vast estate he already owned. Lena started to cry, and to beg him again to let her go, but even as she pleaded the conviction was with her that his ardour had gripped him

too strongly for him to draw back now. Yet she continued to cherish some degree of hope and optimism, and she continued to struggle until, almost fainting when her strength had left her, she ceased and lay passive against him, resigned to surrender. He picked her up and carried her to the plane; she felt the hardness of his body, sensed the passion that had to be quenched. 'What a warm and beautiful creature you are—' He sat her down on the 'bed' and took off her blouse. 'That's better,' he said, his mouth possessing hers as his hands explored and caressed. 'Why struggle, child, when your needs are as great as mine?' She said nothing, because by now her needs were as great as his, and as she turned to him as he lay down beside her a moment later, she allowed her desires to take full possession, to overcome every other thought process that might have intruded. This was tonight ... now! And life was now, not yesterday or tomorrow, not problematical or uncertain. It was something beautiful and fulfilling, this surrender to the man she loved, and there was no room in her heart for regrets—

CHAPTER NINE LENA stood naked in the pool, rubbing her body with a piece of flannelette that had once been a duster and which she had found under the seat in the plane. It was surprising how small things took on a value, she mused, a smile on her lips. But the smile faded presently and she gave a small sigh, her eyes wandering through a gap in the trees to where Ralph was sitting on the bank of another rock pool, trying to catch a fish. They had been here for just over a fortnight and although they had several times thought they heard aircraft overhead no one up there had noticed the smoke that would invariably rise. Her mind was often in confusion because one moment she would want above all else to be rescued, while the next moment she would tell herself that she could stay here for ever. Did Ralph love her? When they were together at night she felt sure of it and her optimism was high. But during the daytime he was often brusque, impatient at times, and her heart would be so heavy that she would wander off on her own to cry a little, and allow her thoughts to drift to the future, such an unpredictable future which could be heaven or hell, depending on how Ralph would feel once they were back to civilisation. This was undoubtedly an artificial situation, one that was bound in the end to have the result it had now, whether she had held out or not, because she knew she would never have been able to hold out indefinitely. An artificial situation--Another sigh escaped her as she came from the pool and used the one small hand-towel that they possessed. Her clothes had been washed but were not quite dry. However, she put them on because with the sun as hot as it was they would be dry within minutes. She combed her hair and went to join Ralph, standing for a long moment staring at his bearded face. How different he looked with the beard! What would everyone say when they saw him?

He glanced up and frowned at her. 'No luck,' he said testily. 'If we go on like this we shall soon be starving.' 'You've always managed to catch something in the end,' she said soothingly, not daring to sit beside him —as she wanted to—because this was one of those times when she knew instinctively that she was not wanted. 'We still have a few biscuits--' 'A few! How many? Three or four?' She swallowed, nodding her head. 'Four,' she answered, and heard the exasperated little sound he made. Something beyond her control made her say, 'Ralph ... are you regretting what's happened between us?' He drew a sharp breath which seemed an answer in itself and tears sprang to her eyes. 'You have no need to say anything,' she began, and turned away. But he was after her, taking her arm and swinging her round to face him. He bent his head; she felt the strong wiry hair of the beard on her cheek, then her mouth, and she strained against him and put her arms around his neck. His kisses were hard, demanding, his whole attitude one of mastery. 'You're too darned tempting,' he said in a voice suddenly hoarse. 'No, you idiot, I'm not regretting what's happened between us!' And he swung her right off her feet, carrying her as if she were a baby, making for the plane. His lovemaking was almost brutal, masterfully compelling; he gave a little laugh of triumph at her swift and easy surrender. 'Just you dare suggest again that I've any regrets and I'll

give you the spanking of your life,' he was saying some while later as they lay together, bodies close, hands clasped together. 'Sometimes, Ralph, I do feel that you wish it had never happened.' 'Naturally I wish we had never had to make the forced landing, but as we did have to—well, what's done is done and there isn't any profit in regrets, is there?' Lena looked at him and suddenly her heart was cold. He was so casual--And if he was casual now, when he had just made love to her, what was he going to be like when they were back at home, and his life was once again centred on the routine business of running his estate?

It was only two days later that they were spotted by an aircraft of the Flying Doctor Service and less than ten hours later they were back at Coolibah Creek, neither looking much the worse for their adventure. Ralph had little time for explanations, merely giving his grandmother a quick resume of what had happened and telling her that the plane was undamaged structurally and that it would be repaired and flown in to Coolibah Creek with the least possible delay. He went off then, to bathe and shave and clean up generally, after which he disappeared and Lena, looking from her bedroom window, saw him riding towards one of the bore-troughs as if nothing unusual had ever happened to him. Copper was full of questions, and Mrs Douglas was as coldly impersonal as before, the only difference in her attitude being one of troubled uncertainty, as if she were wondering just what that seventeen days had done to her grandson. Lena, sitting on the verandah the following day, overheard the old woman saying to Corinne, who had driven over in her father's huge overlanding car,

'She's attractive, Corinne, and they were all alone out there. I hope the wretched girl isn't pregnant. It would be a disaster, because he'd feel in honour bound to marry her!' Lena froze. She got up instantly and moved away, so she missed whatever response Corrine made to that. But the girl happened to come into the garden a quarter of an hour later and spotted Lena sitting in a shady arbour some distance from the homestead, and she said without preamble, 'Tell me about that adventure, Miss Grafton. It must have been quite frightening for you.' Suave and milky-smooth the voice as Corinne without invitation took possession of the other end of the-little rustic seat. 'I expect,' returned Lena coldly, 'that Ralph—er— Mr Douglas—has told you everything.' 'Ralph, eh? And was it Lena?' No, answer. Lena's face coloured, so she turned away, deciding to get up and leave the girl sitting there. However, Corinne was speaking again before she had time to do so. 'How did you pass the time? It must have been very monotonous?' 'I'd rather not talk about it.' 'I see--' slowly and with an odd inflection. 'Could it be that there was something which it's impossible to talk about, Miss Grafton? Perhaps it was not so monotonous after all—' Lena turned on her, two bright little spots of colour appearing in her cheeks.

'Mind your own damned business!' she flashed. 'And get away from here! I never invited you to join me!' The girl never moved. Lena saw the fury in her face, knew she had guessed that something had happened between the man she had hoped to marry and the girl who was his guest at Coolibah Creek. 'So you had an affair, eh? Mrs Douglas feared as much.' The girl paused; it was as if the fury within her demanded she have a respite—and if the quivering of her voice was anything to go by, she needed the respite. .'Do you suppose he'll marry you?' said Corinne when at last she found her voice again. 'I said get away from here!' Lena rose at once, her face ashen now, her hands clenched tightly at her sides. 'If you want any questions answering, then put them to Ralph!' 'I'll do just that! And without delay!' Corinne was gone even before Lena could leave the arbour and she sat down again, putting her head in her hands and trying desperately not to cry. She knew without any doubt at all that this was the end, that there was. only one course open to her and that was to make arrangements for as speedy a departure as possible. She thought of last evening, when they were all at dinner. Ralph had scarcely spoken to her; he was preoccupied, frowning now and then, glancing her way often, then turning aside again or looking down at his plate. Stephen had come along after dinner was over and asked Lena to walk and talk with him. She had told him that there could be nothing between them, but she could tell by his manner and the lack of questions that he never for one moment suspected there had been anything between her and the Boss while they were stranded out there in the desert. On Lena's return to the homestead Ralph had left the verandah and she had not seen him since. No word, no smile, nothing to reassure her--

He sent for her later, just before afternoon tea was to be served on the verandah, and she went to his study with a palpitating heart and a cloud of tears pressing against the backs of her eyes. He was sitting at his desk but rose as she entered, taking his seat again only after she had accepted his invitation to sit down, on the chair opposite to him. The window was behind him, and by some trick of the light his face seemed grotesquely satanic, fear- somely stern and accusing. 'What made you admit to Miss Watson that you and I had—er...?' His voice trailed, as if the dark and heavy frown had smothered it. 'She guessed. Her questions took me by surprise.'' She looked at him through a mist of unshed tears. 'I'm no match for a woman like Miss Watson. Her insidious question made me lose my temper, and it was from that that she drew her conclusions.' Ralph looked at her, drawing an exasperated breath.' 'Surely you could have prevaricated?' 'As I'm not experienced in that particular kind of prevarication, I never thought of it.' Acid in her voice and anger in her eyes, but... oh, how she loved him! To run to him, to be taken into his arms--She shut her eyes tightly and said with a tiny sob in her voice, 'I know you despise me, so I'm ready to leave--' 'Despise you?' he interrupted. 'For what?' Surprise replaced the anger in her expression.

'Well, for ... what I did——' Colour flooded her cheeks. What had seemed so very natural and beautiful was now something shameful, cheap, even lustful. 'Lena,' he said seriously, 'you don't really believe I would despise you? Why should I? It was the kind of situation in which we were both equally caught. If I'm to despise you then I must despise myself, mustn't I?' Her surprise grew. 'But it's different for a man,' she reminded him, 'it always has been.' At which he smiled faintly and with a trace of contempt. 'Always has been, yes. But times have changed, Lena, and we have equality of the sexes. I know what you're thinking, that Australian men don't believe in the equality of the sexes. You're wrong. I admit that we like to be masters in our own homes and for myself I always would be—and woe betide any wife of mine who let herself forget it. But for what happened between you and me—well, I don't despise you and never shall. We were both happy, each enjoying what the other could give.' He stopped and smiled, but the smile was like a knife twisting in her heart because there was no trace of tenderness in it, nothing that was meant for her personally. 'What occurred between us was inevitable, the outcome of circumstances totally beyond our control. I don't know of any couple who, finding themselves in our positions, would have acted differently.' Casual the tone now and the smile was thin and meaningless. Lena looked at him in silence, her whole body weighed down with misery. She wondered how many times she had wished she had never come out here. 'I'll leave,' she quivered. 'Can you help me, please? I shall have to book seats on the planes, and—and— get to—to the other side of the country—to Brisbane, or Sydney. I m-mean--' The tears started to her eyes and she roughly slid them away with the back of her hand. Ralph

was statue still, immobile, unblinking. At last he said in his unhurried drawl, 'Stephen? You've definitely made up your mind not to marry him?' 'Definitely. I told him so last night.' He looked at her curiously as she said that but made no comment. 'If you've really made up your mind then there isn't anything to stay on for,' he agreed at length. 'Yes, Lena, I'll do what you ask and make everything smooth for your departure.' She nodded dumbly and got up from the chair. 'Corinne--' She had reached the door but she turned, her hand on the knob. 'Was she—she very angry with you...?' Her voice faded to silence as she realised that it was none of her business how the girl felt. 'She wasn't pleased, but she was understanding.' 'I see.' Lena left the room, hurrying away without closing the door. Understanding--How very magnanimous of her! 'I hate her,' breathed Lena viciously. 'I hate her with everything in me!' Copper was coming along the passage as Lena left the study and it was inevitable that she should notice something was wrong. She looked concerned but was guarded in her query, saying, 'Hello! Everything all right?' instead of asking- what was the matter. 'Yes, of course.' Lena marvelled at the lightness in her voice. 'I've just been telling Mr Douglas that I want to go home--'

'Home?' Copper looked at her curiously. They had walked along the passage and were in the hall. 'This is sudden, Lena.' She nodded. 'I've decided I can't stay—the loneliness for one thing, with nothing much to do--' She broke off lamely, recalling her previous enthusiasm whenever she had been asked how she was liking the Outback. 'And Stephen?' Copper's voice was still guarded. 'You've told him of your decision?' 'Yes, last night. He took it very well.' Which was true, reflected Lena. He had already become resigned, though, fully aware that her mind was made up some little while ago. 'We'll all miss you,' said Copper regretfully. 'Alice was saying only this morning how relieved she was that you were safe—although I must admit that none of us ever once believed that you and Ralph would die out there. Ralph's tremendous experience with planes convinced us that if he had to make a forced landing, he'd manage somehow to make it in a place where survival was possible. However, to get back to Alice. She was saying that it would be wonderful if you stayed because we women would be able—perhaps with a couple more of us—to get up some different kinds of social activities. Oh, well, it wasn't to be.' A deep sigh escaped Copper, but after a small hesitation she added, 'I might be leaving myself before very long. It's on the cards that the Boss and Corinne'll be married before the year's out, and I don't think I want to remain here when she's the mistress.' 'They're ... getting ... married? When?' Lena could hardly get the words out because of the hard, dry lump in her throat that blocked her breathing.

'We don't know exactly when, but as I've said, it'll probably be before the end of the year. While you and the Boss were lost out there Mr Watson had a slight stroke—he's greatly overweight, as you probably noticed? The stroke frightened him a bit and he's worried that he'll have another, more serious, maybe. So he suggested to Ralph—over the air last evening—that the estates be joined and he could then retire. As the estates can't be joined without the wedding it's fairly certain that the bells will definitely be ringing soon.' Wedding bells for Ralph and Corinne-'It'll be a shame if you have to leave.' Lena said what she thought would be expected of her. 'You've been here a long time, haven't you?' Copper nodded. She was thoughtful, more interested in Lena than herself, or her future. She said slowly, 'You seem to have made up your mind all of a sudden.' 'To leave, you mean? Not really. As soon as I realised I'd never settle my decision was obvious.' She hoped she sounded casual, convincing, but she did not care for the way Copper was regarding her ... with a sort of suspicion in her eyes. She must never guess! God, no one else must guess! It was bad enough Corinne knowing. Would the girl tell Mrs Douglas? Lena rather thought that Corinne would keep her knowledge to herself. Lena recalled the remark made by Mrs Douglas and for a terrifying moment wondered if she could be so unlucky as to be expecting a baby. There was no reason why she shouldn't be-- She cut her thoughts, refusing to let the possibility dwell on her mind. There were other things to think about, the most important being the speed with which arrangements could be made for her departure.

That evening she made an excuse not to go in to dinner, saying she was off-colour and had decided to stay in her room. Copper was concerned, and brought her up a tray. Lena was in bed, just for effect, but as soon as Copper had gone she got dressed and went out to the garden, unconsciously taking the path leading to the bungalows. Stephen's was at the end and she found herself outside it, standing by the gate, her hand on the latch. She turned hurriedly to retrace her steps, but he had seen her through the window and he was out at once, calling to her. Lena entered the path as he held the gate open, noticing his look of surprised enquiry and expecting him to speak. But it was her own voice she heard when presently the silence was broken. 'I didn't feel like dinner, so I opted out.' 'Something the matter?' he asked with a frown as he closed the gate behind her. 'I'm leaving, as soon as possible.' 'I see--'He invited her in and she accepted. She felt rather like an automaton, a puppet obeying the commands of the string-puller. Her mind was almost a blank, her body drained, and it struck her that it had not been wise to go without her dinner, especially as she had eaten very little either for breakfast or lunch. 'Mr Douglas is making all the arrangements for me.' They were in the living-room and she noticed that he had some very pretty potted plants in hanging baskets ... a woman's touch, she thought. 'It's good of him.' A pause and then, with a flicker of his hand, 'Sit down, Lena. You look shot at.' She sat down, biting her lip hard because the tears were close. She wanted a shoulder to cry on and thought Stephen's would be better than nothing.

'Where did you get the flowers?' she asked, just for something to say. 'Denise brought them—and the wrought-iron brackets. We put them up last night.' 'She was here last night? But you were walking with me.' 'She was here for dinner. I should have said last evening, not night.' 'For dinner,' repeated Lena absently. 'She left early.' 'Her job. It's very demanding—too demanding for these modern times. You don't treat people as servants these days, giving them a few hours off and demanding that they be back by nine o'clock!' He was angry, and Lena looked at him with a mingling of perception and surprise. 'You like each other?' she queried. 'Very much. We got to know one another while you were away—lost.' 'You didn't appear to be very worried about me.' 'I was worried—of course I was! But everyone said that the Boss'd never perish in the desert. He was off track all right, and we didn't know at that time that he'd originally diverted so as to visit his friend. What we all did know was that he'd land a crippled plane only where he knew he could stay alive.' 'It could have crashed.' 'No one really believed it had.' 'You all seem to regard Ralph Douglas as infallible.'

'I suppose 'we do,' he agreed. 'There's a strength about him that makes you think he'd never fail at anything.' He looked at her strangely. 'You must have got to know him very well, being alone with him for over a fortnight.' Very well indeed--She said casually, 'I suppose I did.' 'You know there's a rumour that he's getting married before very long?' Lena nodded bleakly. 'Copper mentioned it.' 'Copper'll be leaving; she can't stand Corinne.' 'Copper will be missed. She does all sorts of jobs.' What sort of conversation was this? They were talking for the sake of it, both feeling decidedly awkward. She got up and moved to the door. 'I'll be going. Goodnight, Stephen.' 'You ought to have something to eat.' 'There's a tray in my room. I'll see what's on it.' He was frowning heavily. 'There's something very wrong, Lena.' He sounded anxious, she thought, and yet at the same time she had the impression that he would be relieved when she had left the bungalow. Perhaps he was expecting Denise again. She mentioned this and he shook his head. 'She'll be here tomorrow, for dinner. She's coming early to cook it. It'll be nice to come home and find it ready.'

She looked at him across the room. 'Perhaps you'll get together?' 'We might do. I like her, I admit, and she seems to like me.' 'You're mother'll be happy to see you married.' 'I think she'd rather I'd married you,' he said, looking steadily at her. Lena went out into the hall; he opened the front door, then said he would walk her back to the homestead. She made no demur but fell into step beside him. They did not speak until they were in the garden and he stopped in the shadows of some bushes. 'If I marry Denise it'll be second best, Lena.' His voice was low, faintly persuasive. 'We've been man and wife, and somehow it doesn't seem right for me to be marrying someone else.' She thought about Ralph, and the eagerness and thankfulness with which she would fly to him if she could. 'Lots of people have a divorce and then marry someone else.' '•I know. It was silly of me to say it. But I'd still marry you if you'd have me. It was fun being married to you. I'd give ten years of my-life to undo that divorce.' She shrugged. 'It's profitless to dwell on the mistakes we make.' 'But if one can right their mistakes? It isn't as if you're in love with anyone else, is it?' She did not answer and there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice when presently he added, 'You're not in love with anyone else, are you, Lena?'

Was he thinking of Ralph, and suddenly attaching importance to that seventeen days and nights they had been together? She answered swiftly, shaking her head, 'No, I'm not in love with anyone else.' She must have sounded convincing, for his tone held relief when he said, 'Then marry me, Lena. We've been lovers, darling, and it was wonderful. I made you happy--' His voice trailed and he glanced around at the same time as Lena gave a start. 'You heard something?' Her voice was the merest whisper, close to his ear. His cheek touched hers as he nodded. 'Yes,' he whispered, 'there's someone about, on the other side of those bushes.' 'Let's move away,' she said, and together they began to stroll- towards the house. 'I'm going home, Stephen,' she said firmly when once again he asked her to think of the past, and to believe that they could be happy again. 'All I want is to get back to my flat and my job.' A small silence ensued before he said resignedly, 'So be it, Lena. I've tried and I can't do any more. Goodnight—and sleep well.' 'Goodnight.' 'It could be goodbye,' he added as the thought occurred to him. 'I'm away from the homestead for the whole of next week.' 'It is goodbye, then, because I shall have left by the time you get back.'

She wandered on alone, not making for the house but going into the grounds beyond the garden. She thought she heard footsteps and stopped. Corinne had come to dinner, so Copper had said, and it was her slender figure that Lena saw; she was mounting the steps of the verandah. Was she staying the night? Lena refused to let her thoughts stay with the girl; she would forget her more easily if she put her out of her mind every time she intruded into it ... forget her and Ralph and the fact that very soon now they would be man and wife. But it was easier to make the decision than to keepit, and she was crying bitterly by the time she entered the house after staying outside for about ten minutes after saying goodbye to Stephen. And because she was blinded by her tears she failed to see Mrs Douglas coming towards her in the corridor. 'Oh—! I'm sorry, Mrs Douglas!' she gasped after bumping into her. 'What's the hurry?' The voice was harsh, almost insulting in the contempt it carried. 'You were supposed to be unwell—keeping to your room.' Her hands had come out when Lena walked blindly into her, and now her strong bony fingers were digging viciously into Lena's arms. 'I needed fresh air—-—' She wrenched herself free, fury rising within her at the pain the woman had deliberately inflicted. 'Fresh air? Why, were you feeling sick or something?' No answer from Lena, who despite her anger was making a supreme effort not to say anything that would create unpleasantness between this woman and herself. 'Tell me, girl,' persisted Mrs Douglas, 'is there anything seriously wrong with you?' It was becoming too much, the oblique significance of the question.

'What,' said Lena between her teeth, 'could be seriously wrong with me?' The old woman paused, her bloodless lips moving spasmodically. She was under a strain, profoundly worried that her hopes for a marriage between her grandson and the heiress to the Watson cattle station might not materialise. And in a moment of sheer impulsive mischief Lena silently phrased a statement and held it poised, ready to deliver, but the woman spoke first. 'You and Ralph were out there for seventeen days ... and nights. It would be a miracle if you hadn't sought diversion from the monotony.' 'So you're wondering if I'm expecting your grandson's child?' Slow, understanding words, but not those she had been ready to deliver. They were still on her tongue. 'You're very blunt, Miss Grafton!' 'I'll be blunter still, Mrs Douglas! Yes, I am expecting your grandson's child, so your well-laid plans are likely to---' She stopped, catching her breath as Ralph and Corinne emerged from the room just to the left of her. They'd been in there all the time, she thought, a trembling hand stealing up to her white cheek. What she did not realise, at first, was that the door had been closed and they had heard only the last sentence, the one spoken by Lena and interrupted by their appearance. She saw the harsh narrowed gaze of Ralph, was aware of the cold glitter of hate in Corinne's eyes ... but there was something else there as well, something like reassurance which she was trying to convey to the old woman standing there, her face ashen-grey, the result of the statement just made to her by Lena in her uncontrollable desire to hit back—and hit hard. She tried to speak, to tell the truth, but words failed her beneath the stares of the three people standing there in silence, their hostility filling the very

atmosphere so that it pressed upon her, and she turned with the intention of running to her room. But Ralph spoke as she began to move. 'Stay where you are!' he ordered. And she turned again and lifted her face to look into his eyes, hard impenetrable eyes, dark with accusation. 'You're expecting a child, you say? And it's mine--' 'No, you see, I was—was t-tempted to s-say it was yours, but--' 'But it isn't...?' So slow the words, and carrying an inflection which, although bewildering, yet caused her heart to leap right into her chest and hammer painfully against it. 'It's Stephen's—or perhaps YOU aren't quite sure whose it is--' 'Stop!' she fumed, every nerve quivering, every instinct geared to the primitive desire to strike out at the man, to strike out at Corinne and wipe that jeering expression off her face, to strike the old woman whose face had cleared suddenly, her body sagging with relief. 'You shan't say such things--' 'Miss Watson was in the garden a few minutes ago,' interrupted Ralph softly, 'and she overheard Stephen saying you and he had been lovers. As you didn't deny it I take it to be the truth. If you're expecting a child, it's very logical that it could his.' A pause. Lena had become drained with a suddenness that was inexplicable, drained and detached from everyone and everything around her. She had neither the strength nor the inclination to protest or deny, to acquit herself or proffer an excuse for the lie she had told. It did not seem to matter what they thought about her; her only idea was to get away, to the sanctuary of her bedroom where she was safe from hurt. Ralph was saying, still in that soft accusing voice, ,'Jf you are expecting Stephen's child, then the best thing you can do is to marry him without further delay.'

She looked at him, and despite her inner fury— which at this moment was bordering on actual hatred —there were tears of heartache in her eyes, and her lips were moving convulsively. 'I'll think about it--' The words came unbidden, words that were never meant. The words she was saying to herself were very different; she was saying that she must leave here without any further delay. She had heard Chuck telling one of the stockmen that he had a leave due to him and he was taking it in Sydney ... driving in the overlanding car to the railway station at which he had originally picked Lena up less than two months ago.

CHAPTER TEN CHUCK looked at her with puzzlement when she made her request early the following morning. He had seen her coming towards the saddling paddock and, taking it for granted that she would be riding, he was preparing to fetch Becky when she came up to him and said without preamble, 'When you go on leave, Chuck, will you give me a lift in the car? I'm ready to go now; this place is not for me.' 'It's very sudden, isn't it?' His alert eyes seemed to probe, and he was obviously a little upset that she should have decided to leave, since he and she were very good friends by now. 'I've decided that it's far too lonely for me out here, so I'm anxious to get back home as quickly as possible.' He scratched his head, becoming thoughtful. As always, he was not talkative and the silence stretched until, for one anxious moment, Lena began to fear that he would not take her with him. They would have to camp, and perhaps he did not care for that. When Copper was there it was different—but he would have to camp on the outward journey, recollected Lena, and he was alone with a woman then. So what difference did it make? Copper or herself? 'Does the Boss know you're asking me to take you?' he queried at last, and Lena shook her head. 'I'll be telling him later today—if you'll agree to give me the lift, that is?' 'Well ... the Boss isn't very partial to any of us taking up a female who isn't one of the family, so to speak.' He looked at her in a stolid, reflective kind of way. 'Copper's different, but you--' He shook his

head uncertainly. 'If you really mean it, then you'll have to ask the Boss first. And to tell the truth I don't think he'll give his permission.' Lena went back to the homestead but there was no sign of Ralph. She had not really expected to find him at home, but, loath to wait until the evening, she decided to ride out, and see if she could find him. As she was leaving the house again she stopped a moment, looking at the pair of kookaburras that were pecking at some titbits which Prissy had put out on the lawn. One flew up into the oak tree and began to laugh. Always she had been able to laugh with them, but today there was no laughter within her—only tears, and the dark sheath of misery that enfolded her. Mrs Douglas was suddenly there beside her; the very presence of the gaunt old woman sent shudders along her spine. Never in her life had she detested anyone more than this woman. She was almost evil, thought Lena, automatically edging away, putting a little distance between them. 'Are you going to marry Stephen?' The question seemed to shoot out, as if it could not be contained any longer. Lena slanted her a glance, marvelling at the fact that she felt no embarrassment, not one little tinge of inferiority. It was probably because she knew of her own innocence, and there was a sort of smug satisfaction in this which was a natural human reaction. 'No,' she answered firmly, 'I am not.' The woman's face changed colour. 'If he's the father of your child,' she began, 'then surely you ought to be eager to marry him.'

What a temptress the woman was! That imp of mischief reared its little head and for a fleeting moment Lena found herself toying with the idea of saying, in a sort of acid-sweet tone, 'But he isn't the father of my child, Mrs Douglas. Ralph is.' However, sense and logic if nothing else put an effective brake on her inclination and she merely said, 'What I do and how I conduct my life is my own affair entirely. You will oblige me by minding your own business.' A sort of shocked silence came down; Lena could have laughed if her heart had not been so heavy. It really was amusing that the woman should think she was having a child—when she now knew she was not. Secondly, it was amusing that the effect of Lena's words should have come as a shock to her; she had not expected to be spoken to like that! But all at once Lena was conscious of something else, a third circumstance-Why should Mrs Douglas be so anxious to have her married off to Stephen? Thoughts rioted about in Lena's mind; she suddenly recollected that there had been a strange sort of 'atmosphere' between Corinne and Ralph when they emerged from that room last evening. True, Corinne had seemed triumphant, owing to what she had overheard, but there was no real confidence about her. And why, pondered Lena, had she been out in the garden alone? She had dined with the man she was soon to marry; it was feasible that they'd had a pleasant time together, so why hadn't they strolled together later, in the moonlit garden? Surely they had not had one of their tiffs at a time like this!

She looked at Mrs Douglas, at her austere profile with the jutting chin and straight classical nose. Strength ... and yet the mouth was quivering. Something forced a question to Lena's lips, but it was never uttered. She was going to ask how soon her grandson was to be married, but Mrs Douglas turned and disappeared into the house.

She rode Becky across the plain towards where a group of stockmen were moving about among the grazing mob of cattle, her eyes narrowed against the fierce sun as she scanned the faces from the distance, rugged sun-bitten faces of men who really were men, hardy and strong, inured to all the rigours of the interior of this vast continent, men who lived in the saddle and rode with ease, content with the great outdoors. Lena felt the heat on her back and legs; her forehead was already damp, with tendrils of hair clinging to it, having escaped from the confinement of the wide-brimmed straw hat she had on. Her shirt was white, with gentle stripes of blue forget-me-nots widely-spaced and running horizontally; the sleeves were short, the neck open to reveal a honey-hued throat on which a thin gold chain held a tiny locket of gold. Her jeans were dark blue, tight and looking a little worse for wear, though spotlessly clean. She saw Ralph, apart by a clump of willows fringing what had been the bed of an ancient river long dried up. Her heart caught, love and apprehension and shyness all mixed up inside her. She would be glad when the interview was over, more glad still when she had left here and the forgetting part would begin. He glanced up as she came cantering along, and she sensed a frown without actually seeing it. He moved, gracefully, towards her, then stopped in the shade of some paperbarks, waiting, his gaze fixed interrogatingly on her face. She knew the colour had risen in her cheeks, and cursed herself for that reckless moment when retaliation against Mrs Douglas had led her to tell that absurd and fatuous lie. Should she tell him the truth now? No. Stubbornness and indignation

ascended over that idea; he had been willing to believe the worst of her, to accept without question what Corinne had told him. She had been Stephen's lover—since coming over here. That was what he thought of her! Let him! What did she care? In a week's time she would be gone out of his life for ever, and as his opinion of her was so low, he would probably put her out of his mind and never think of her again. She reined in not far from where Tolka was standing, the trees providing welcome shade. 'Chuck is going on leave in a couple of days' time,' she said at once, 'and I'd like to go along with him. He says I must ask you first.' Her voice was cool and surprisingly steady. But she swallowed convulsively as she waited for his answer, the pain in her heart almost unbearable. If only he could have loved her! If only the tenderness shown in their intimacy had been genuine ... how different everything could have been. She loved him so much that she knew she could make him happy, but it was not to be, because he had no love for her—only contempt. He was silent, frowning at her, and his mouth was harsh. 'I never allow any of the men to give lifts to female guests of mine.' Implacable the tone and arrogant the stared as if he were daring her to argue with his decision. He was the Boss, he was telling her silently, and his word was law. Lena said one word, coldly and with an arrogance matching his own, 'Why?' The blue eyes narrowed to mere slits. 'I don't give explanations for my actions,' he told her in a softly dangerous tone. 'You don't go with Chuck, understand?'

She coloured more hotly and anger glittered in her eyes. 'I'm no longer under your—er—care--' 'Control is the word. And you are under it until the day you leave, which will be when I have arranged suitable transport for you.' Tolka snorted, as if supporting his master's words —or perhaps he was warning Lena not to argue further. But she wanted to leave; it was imperative that she leave as soon as possible. 'I must go with him,' she said. 'Can't you send someone with us—Copper?' 'Copper can't be spared.' She would have to be, when Corinne became his wife, thought Lena reflectively. If Corinne became his wife-'It would be far simpler if I went with Chuck--' 'Lena,' he interrupted softly, 'don't argue with me. I shall do my best to arrange transport as soon as possible, and until I do you'll have to resign yourself to remaining here!' 'I want to go!' she cried peevishly. 'What right have you to keep me!' He ignored that and asked instead, 'You're not marrying Stephen, then?' 'No, I am not!' 'It's rather foolish, don't you think?'

'Not at all! You were the one who talked of the equality of the sexes. There's no such thing today as "having to get married"!' What was the matter with her—carrying on like this, still pretending? She supposed that deep within her she felt she was hitting back. But it was so nonsensical that she was feeling the deepest contempt for herself. Ralph was staring vacantly into space; she saw his lips move, almost imperceptibly, but they moved all the same, and suddenly a nerve began to pulsate in his throat, out of control. Fascinated, Lena wondered what sort of emotion was holding him in its grip. His eyes moved, traversing the distance where foothills rose above the plain, kindled by colour and warmth, given off by the sun. And then he was looking at Lena and she knew intuitively that he had been endeavouring to avoid her eyes but had found it impossible. Accusation was there ... and something else. Was it regret, sorrow, disappointment? So difficult to tell with eyes like that, deep and cool, their expression controlled. Mystified, she wanted to ask what he was thinking, but of course she refrained. She had not the right to ask him questions; her brief interlude of intimacy with him was now a closed chapter ... and a memory. She sighed, and turned half from him, deciding that she would have to do as he said and wait his convenience. There was a faint breeze and by turning she was caught in it. It whipped her hair into a spangle of russet-brown tinged with gold; it caught the loose-fitting part of her shirt and pressed it seductively against her breasts, outlining the tender curves, accentuating their youthful firmness. 'Lena„..' She turned, unsure of her hearing. His face was taut, enigmatic. It must have been the breeze in the paperbarks, she thought, or perhaps

it had been what she yearned to hear ... her name on his lips, but only imagined. She said with a quiver in her voice, 'So I can't go with Chuck, then?' 'That's what I said.' 'How long shall you be, getting transport for me?' A hesitation, strange and tense, unfathomable. 'I'll do my best to arrange it as soon as possible. I've already said so. You'll have to be patient.' She rode away, tears gathering as soon as her back was to him. Becky wandered and Lena let her go, her mind on other things rather than on making directly for the homestead. There was shade in that copse over there and Becky went at a canter towards it. But suddenly, unexpectedly she increased to a gallop, the motion smooth and easy but far too fast for Lena, who drew on the reins, trying to check her. But she realised suddenly that the horse was bolting, careering away past the trees and into the open again. And then she saw it—the reason for the horse's fear. A monstrous bull, charging madly across the plain, bent on cutting them off. 'A scrub--' Oh, God, there could be no escape! she thought, a choked little cry issuing from her lips. The next moment she was on the ground, dazed but, by some miracle, practically unhurt. Becky was racing away, into the sun-hazed distance; the bull was thundering along, head down, towards the spot where Lena stood, almost paralysed with fear. But she did manage to let out a scream that must have echoed for miles, because it was heard by the stockmen and by Ralph. Lena got up and ran, the beast gaining on her all the time.

Then another kind of thundering and she saw a man and a horse, saw them through a mist of descending oblivion which blotted out the monstrous dark shape that was almost upon her.

She opened her eyes to see Ralph and a couple of rangers, all with stockwhips in their hands. The bull was nowhere to be seen. 'Thank God!' she breathed. 'I th-thought he—he must surely k-kill me.' Tears oozed from her eyelids as she closed them against the glare of the sun. 'Th-thank you--' Ralph picked her up; she remembered being carried before, but this time it was not to his horse, but to a utility that was standing by, having been driven out from the homestead by Chuck. Ralph was beside her in the back, silent and grim and very distant. She was so shaken that she felt weak, drained of all energy, ready to sink down into oblivion again. Yes, that would be wonderful, not to be conscious of this man beside her, of his mental remoteness, his inaccessibility. He did not speak until they were back at the homestead, in the sitting-room, on their own. 'How did it happen? You were a long way from here.' His voice was stern but tired, somehow, and despondent, which was not like him at all, thought Lena, and wondered what was on his mind. She explained, and after a while he gave a slow and comprehending nod of his head. 'You're not angry?' she asked in surprise. 'What's the use of being angry?' The same tired, discouraged sort of tone came through the even tenor of his voice. 'It would do little good at this stage, would it?'

She looked puzzled for a moment, but comprehension dawned even before he spoke, saying that as she would be leaving soon any angry demonstration on his part would be out of place. 'If it could act as a warning for the future then it would make sense,' he added, then shrugged his shoulders. 'As it is—well, I'd be wasting my time.' Her lip quivered as she said, 'I'm sorry for everything. Ralph--' It was strange that she could say his name without difficulty ... and even with a hint of tenderness which came through almost unknowingly. 'I think that once I'm back home I shall write you a letter and when you read it you might not think so badly of me.' Her eyes were wide and frank, but she was still badly shaken and she added when he did not speak, 'I'm going up to my room now, to rest--' she managed a wan little smile, 'and to get over it.' Ralph seemed to swallow something hard and painful, in his throat. He was between her and the door and although she made to leave the room he did not move. 'This letter,' he began. 'Why a letter? What is it that you can't tell me now?' .'I suppose I could tell you,' she found herself admitting, 'But it wouldn't do any good.' She gestured despondently, asking if she could pass him. He moved then and she went to the door. She had just opened it when someone came running and there were voices, as if something were amiss. Instinctively she turned to cast a glance at Ralph, who was himself looking puzzled. 'Something's wrong!' He was past her and in the hall. Copper said urgently,

'Your grandmother--! She's collapsed—had a stroke or something!' Lena's eyes went past her to Prissy, who was standing outside the door of Mrs Douglas's private room. 'She's ... dead, Boss,' she whispered in a scared and disbelieving tone. Ralph was soon in the room, with Lena and Copper behind him. 'Stephen!' Lena stared, unable to believe her eyes. 'What--?' 'She sent for me, Boss.' He spoke to Ralph, but his eyes soon travelled to Lena, and she was at first totally bewildered by his contemptuous expression, but as her eyes wandered to the woman lying there, on the couch, her mouth twisting convulsively, she began to understand--

It was over an hour later that news came to the homestead from the hospital that Mrs Douglas had died. Ralph had gone with her when they took her in the ambulance, and he had remained with her. Copper came up to Lena's room to give her the news. 'She went peacefully enough,' she added. 'The Boss's still there, talking to the nurse—so we understand.' She paused and looked at Lena, who was lying on the bed. 'How are you feeling? It was a nasty experience, but it could have been a lot worse.' She shuddered visibly. 'It's one of the things I've always been scared of, meeting up with a scrub bull out there, where you've no protection.' 'It was fortunate that they heard my scream.' 'Very.' Copper paused again. 'Would you like a cup of tea or anything?'

Lena shook her head, saying she felt much better and would get up directly. 'It's sad about Mrs Douglas.' It seemed inadequate, thought Lena, but she could not think of anything else to say. Copper was casual about it. 'She's had a good innings, and she was becoming a bit of a headache to everyone, especially the Boss. He was very patient with her, but it was plain that she irritated him.' Lena nodded, and was glad when Copper had gone. She thought of Stephen, and the reason why he had been with Mrs Douglas. He was supposed to have gone off to the distant pastures, but the old woman had obviously sent for him before he set out... sent for him to ask him to try and persuade Lena to marry him-Ralph returned but went straight to his study, and Lena suspected there would be a lot to do before life at Coolibah Creek settled into a normal routine once again. She wondered about her own situation and decided that Ralph would not now object to her going along with Chuck. She would speak to him as soon as she could get him alone. After dinner would be a good time, she thought, but it was to transpire that she was to speak with him much sooner than that. In fact, it was less than twenty minutes after he had gone into his study that he came out to the verandah where she was sitting, watching a small flock of rosellas preening themselves in the lovely flamboyant tree that rose above the shrubs at one side of the lawn. She turned, heart leaping, her mouth going dry. 'What,' he said harshly, 'did you mean by saying that your child was Stephen's?'

'I—I didn't--The dryness in her throat intensified. 'You've b-been speaking to—to him?' Ralph gritted his teeth. 'You'd better come inside,' he rasped, 'because what I have to say to you has to be said in private! I don't want any interruptions by servants, or anyone else!' She rose automatically as he stood aside, and fol-lowed him into the house, into the living-room where he stood at the door until she had passed him, then swung it closed with far more force and noise than was necessary. She looked up into his face, and every nerve in her body became alert, for he looked positively dangerous, ready to murder her, she thought, fear mounting to proportions that she soon admitted were absurd, since he could scarcely harm her here, with Copper and the servants within call. 'The child's mine!' It was a statement spoken through teeth that seemed locked together. 'Why did you let me believe it was Stephen's--?' He broke off abruptly as if the words he spoke were abhorrent to him. His voice quivered with rage as he went on, 'And why the hell didn't you tell me you'd been married to him? You let me believe you were rotten, a bitch who would let any man--' His rage had increased to towering proportions, and as if aware that he would not be able to control it much longer, Lena made a strategic retreat towards the door, moving backwards a step at a time. It was an undiplomatic action that could not possibly escape him and before she knew it she was in a vicious grip, being shaken with such violence that she felt she must surely lose her senses. 'Why did you lie?' He thundered, thrusting her savagely into an armchair, where she sat trembling against the upholstery, regretting with every hair of her head the stupid untruth she had told his grandmother, since that was

the cause of everything that had happened since—or nearly everything. 'Answer me, girl, before I go out and bring in a stockwhip to you!' Undoubtedly he was ready to carry out his threat! She managed to say chokingly, 'I didn't ever say it was Stephen's--' 'You didn't deny it!' he broke in furiously. 'You'd have gone from here, taking my child--' 'Oh, be quiet!' she flashed, by some miracle conjuring up a little courage. 'I'm not having a baby! — never was having one, so you've no need to carry on like this! I'm going to my room--' 'By God, you are not! What do you mean, you're ...?' Ralph's voice trailed to silence, and if he had looked ready to murder her before it was the urge to torture that seemed to consume him now. She tried to rise, hoping to escape, but she was pushed down into the chair again, from where she looked up at him, into a face crimson-dark with fury ... but into eyes that held something very different beneath the censure they contained. She gave a disbelieving little gasp, but before she could say anything he was speaking again. 'You must have had a reason for telling my grandmother that you were expecting my child. Perhaps you would like to explain?' Quieter the voice now, but oh, still dangerous! Lena swallowed convulsively, pressing a hand to her heart because its awful thudding frightened her. She began to speak at length, not very coherently at first—not with that dark face above her, and those slender hands opening and closing insidiously, as if itching to reduce something to pulp. However, she contrived to make him understand, explaining that his grandmother had provoked her into saying something that resulted solely from anger.

'It's difficult to—to tell you everything,' she added finally, 'because Mrs Douglas is—is—dead.' 'What difference does that make?' he asked inexorably. 'Well, one doesn't--' 'Nothing you can say will harm her now,' he broke in curtly. 'Carry on! I want to hear the lot! This provocation?' 'Well, she asked if—if there was anything seriously wrong with—with me. She said it would be a miracle if we—er—you and I—hadn't sought a diversion from the monotony.' His eyes glittered; he was about to say something about the old woman's behaviour but refrained, saying instead, 'And so you retaliated by telling that damned stupid and senseless lie? You do realise what trouble you caused?' His voice was quieter but, strangely, it made her own temper rise. 'It was not only I who caused trouble,' she flashed at him. 'What about your—that woman who listened and then repeated what she'd heard? She got it all wrong, and you know it now! But at the time you believed that I'd—I'd— what I'm trying to say is that if she'd heard a bit more, heard that we'd been married and divorced, then the bit about our being lovers would have taken on a different meaning, wouldn't it?' Her anger was increasing, while his was obviously subsiding. 'If you hadn't been so ready to believe the worst of—of m-me, then none of it would have happened, because I'd have told you the truth—that I wasn't expecting a baby at all.' She was on the point of tears, her anger gone as quickly as it had come. She stared into his face, trying to probe beneath the mass of sternness she saw there. She heard him say softly,

'I ought to beat you, use that stockwhip on you. My God, Lena, you did take a risk. If I hadn't so many other things on my mind I'd school you for all the trouble you've caused me.' The content of his words, severe as they were, almost passed over her head, for it was the undertones that she heard, the tenderness in the threat, the promise in that last sentence. She said, because she dared not, just yet, ask the question that was in her mind, 'Stephen told you everything, of course?' 'Everything that mattered.' 'Your grandmother had sent for him, obviously?' She suddenly remembered that Stephen had said so. He nodded. 'You've guessed why she sent for him.' 'To try to get him to marry me.' Ralph moved away and she was both glad and sorry, for while it was certainly disconcerting to have him towering above her like that, it was nice too to have him close—now that his fury was gone, now that she knew what was in his heart. 'Did it never strike you that I cared?' 'No—there was Corinne--' She stopped as recollection came to her. 'Why was she in the garden alone?' 'Because I'd just told her everything was off between us. I gave her no reason, but she guessed. My grandmother was told and she took it badly. She was afraid I'd marry you, which was why she sent for Stephen--' He broke off and frowned, and at the same time came back

to her, pulling her to her feet. 'Enough of all that! If we've things to tell each other that haven't been cleared up then it can come later. For now—for now, you little wretch, it's a small demonstration of what's in store for you in the very near future!'Lena was gasping for breath when at last he held her from him; her lips were rosy red, her eyes shining with happiness. 'It's a miracle,' she whispered, snuggling close to him again. 'One that very nearly didn't happen, thanks to your stupidity.' Censured, she was quiet for a space. 'When did you know you loved me?' she managed to ask eventually. 'I suppose it was while we were lost,' he answered reflectively. 'The day you hurt your head seemed to mark the beginning, because I remember being very anxious about you.' He paused a moment, still thoughtful. 'Then afterwards,' he mused, 'you were so wonderful to love—warm and sweet and eager— a revelation, dearest, to a man who had hitherto considered love to be unimportant. I'd always thought of Corinne as the one I would marry and the land she would inherit was important. But you made me realise that there were other things, that marriage could hold much more than Corinne could give.' Again he paused, this time to kiss her softly-parted lips, and her throat, and the tender curve that was exciting against his chest. 'I admit I fought it, but not for long. Corinne's golden acres were no longer important; some other man was welcome to them, for the treasure within my grasp was worth more than the whole of this land put together.' His smile was tender, his caress gentle as a summer breeze drifting over the plain. 'I told her, as I said, that it was all off, and I told my grandmother. And then Corinne came to me after being in the garden and overhearing you and Stephen talking—God, the shock!' For a moment the harshness returned, and a darkening

glimmer in his eyes caused her to tremble against him. 'And, confronted, you made no denial-'I was angry,' she broke in pettishly. 'I wasn't entirely to blame, Ralph, and it's very unfair of you to imply that I was!' 'Temper?' He held her from him. 'Do you want another shaking, girl?' She shook her head, averting her face. 'No,' she returned meekly, 'it was—was awful.' 'Let it be a lesson well learned,' he said warningly, but now the harshness had gone and the love and tenderness that replaced it brought a smile fluttering to her lips. 'My darling, I adore you!' He caught her close against him, crushing her lips, forcing them apart, masterfully quelling the little half-hearted protest she tried to make when he hurt her. His passion flared, bringing the memory of those nights in the wilderness when in primitive domination he had taken her, forcing surrender that had in the end come willingly, gladly, as she gave of her all. 'Ralph,' she gasped, desperate for air, but the one word uttered in a second of freedom was all she was allowed before he took her lips again, and as there was no stemming the torrent of his ardour she found herself carried on a flood-tide of thrilling, exciting lovemaking before once more he held her from him. 'You're adorable! Lena, child, you'll marry me soon. I know we ought to wait because of Grandmother, but it can't be for long. I need you--' He stopped and his mouth curved in a smile that was half tender, half amused. 'You need me too, so don't you dare come the coy female touch and deny it--' 'I had no intention of doing so,' she broke in shamelessly. 'I do need you, dearest Ralph ... terribly!'

'That settles it. A wedding just as soon as we can decently arrange it.' He paused and she wondered why he was frowning. His next words explained. 'I shall send Stephen away. He can manage another, small holding I have in the west. It's been looking after itself, with just a handful of Abos. He mentioned that he might be getting married, so he can take his wife with him.' Lena nodded, well able to understand Ralph's objection to having her ex-husband working close at hand. 'Did he tell you why we were divorced?' she asked as the thought occurred to her. 'Yes; he was a brute to you! But I'm glad he was, my beloved, and I'm glad he wanted you back-- But that's enough! I've already said so. For now, my sweet, there are other things to talk about.' 'Such as...?' She was emboldened to send him a coquettish look, and received a rough little shake for her trouble. 'Such as my warning you that if your husband doesn't get respect he'll give you something that will greatly restrict your comfort, especially when you sit down.' She coloured, and buried her face in his shoulder. 'I think you'll be a brute, and I don't know if I ought--' 'Undoubtedly I shall be a brute!' 'You'll be forever giving me orders!' 'Arid what better time to begin than now? Wife, I command you to put your arms around my neck and kiss me!'

Lena lifted her head, and with a little self-conscious laugh she did as she was told, deciding that she was unable to find the least fault with a command like that....