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“No, you never have.” triumphed Bruce. “Then we did. The taxpayer did. And—-and do please forgive me, my dear, but it’s been quite an imposition.”

“Imposition?” she queried.

“Permian rock. Something from the beginning of time. I mean, Gemma, where does that hoo-ha get us? At least the geos might strike oil, even if they make nuisances of' themselves doing it, but going back into the past like that—!”

“The Dreamtime,” said Gemma. She felt she was dreaming herself.

“Exactly. So now you know why we weren’t exactly buddies.”

“Some pastoralists were,” she pointed out.

“Not the Mannerings.”

“You mean the Establishment.”

“So you’ve heard of that.” Bruce did not seem at-all upset. “We’re quite proud of it. After all, we were the first here.”

“After the aborigines.”

“I wasn’t counting them, of course,” Bruce said a little sulkily, and Gemma decided that perhaps she had gone too far, though all the same Bruce still had not considered her.

But when he turned and smiled back when she put her hand over his in mute apology, all was well again. How handsome he was, how presentable.

'“We must mark our first occasion together at Mannering Park with a toast,” he insisted, then he actually reached under the table and brought up a bell. He tinkled the bell.

A bell here in the middle of nowhere! Gemma was not aware she had said that aloud until Bruce corrected:

“You mean at Mannering Park, Gemma. And why not? We’re not savages because we’re surrounded by a savage country. Surely you don’t frown on such little niceties?”

“Of course not.’" Gemma said it faintly; said, also, that a gin squash, a long one, would be fine, Hannah. Hannah, who had obeyed the summons, nodded and left them again. They both sat back.

Bruce spoke of trivialities until Hannah had brought the tray and left once more. The woman looked a little strained, Gemma thought. Gemma also thought that Bruce had something else to say to her apart from those polite trivialities. There was a firm line to his lips and a slightly austere look.

But at least he waited until he had toasted her.

“Dear Gemma,” he said, raising his glass.

“Dear Bruce,” said Gemma, raising hers.

They both drank, then looked out on Mannering Park again.

Bruce broke the silence.

“I was a little disturbed when Hannah told me you were staying here, Gemma. I had a few things to say to her.”

“To Hannah?”—So that was why the poor woman looked strained.

“Yes. She should have put you right the moment you came here, dear.”

“Right?” she questioned.

“Sent you along to my sister Janet's, my mother being away.”

“Oh—that.” Gemma made a laugh out of it, but it was not easy, for she had a certain feeling that Bruce was not going to laugh back.

She was correct in that feeling. Bruce didn’t laugh.

“Yes—that,” he said.

“Well, put Hannah right out of your thoughts—and your blame. She did tell me what I should do, but I just told her my own ideas on the subject.” Somewhere inside of her Gemma felt like adding: “And that should please you, Bruce, that the future Mrs. Mannering promptly put an employee in her place.”

But she didn’t say it. Also she could tell that Bruce was very displeased.

“You know my views, Gemma. I told you in Sydney that most certainly you would stay with my mother at the big house before our wedding, never here.”

“I answered that I would stay with Godfather,” Gemma reminded him, and felt a sharp return of the pain of loss that had been eased in her these last few days.

“I know, dear,” Bruce said sympathetically. “And don’t think I don’t commend you when you left Rudhill as soon as everything was over. I mean, Gemma, one woman among all those men !”

She looked at him in astonishment. Every one of those men was nearing sixty. If a stray here and there had got in, say a young pup of fifty, then his eyes, like the rest of the eyes, never got far from a scientific treatise. Yet Bruce thought . . . could think . . .

“You are,” pointed out Bruce, “a very lovely girl.”

It was nice to hear, but it was just not good enough. Gemma drank' the rest of her gin squash in one reckless gulp and sent Bruce’s eyebrows soaring once more, but at once she felt better herself.

“I was tired, Bruce. I wanted to bed down at the first place I came to. Hannah did point out a few things, but I wouldn’t listen. Now can’t we leave it at that?”

“Certainly, my sweet. After all, no harm is done. And as soon as we’ve had our drinks . .. I’ve had my drink . . . I’ll get you across to Janet’s.”

“Your sister’s?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Oh. Gemma, we’ve gone through all this before,” sighed Bruce.

“No, we haven’t. That’s the trouble—I’ve settled here. Why can’t I stay on?”

“Darling, it wouldn’t be correct. I know you come from Sydney, and Sydney isn’t really very concerned with such things, but it still isn’t the way
we
do things. We’re conventional, Gemma. It may sound absurd to you—”

“With a housekeeper in the house, it does.”

“But” . . . ignoring her . . . “it’s still the way we do things.”

A moment’s silence. Then :

“Oh. my dearest,” said Bruce in a low tone, “don’t think it will be always like this. Because we have certain standards now there’s no cause for you to believe it won’t be wonderful for both of us later on. I can assure you, Gemma, I’m very much the male. As my chosen mate, my love, you’ll have no complaints to make over that.” It was said suavely, even with a thrilling undertone, a tingling significance, but Gemma—

Gemma felt sick.

“So you will pack your bags, dear?” Bruce asked.

“Yes,” she said expressionlessly.

“Meanwhile I’ll ring Janet and tell her we’ll be coming across. Don’t look so crestfallen. We’ll have dinner together at Janet’s. Then don't forget you’re only a short drive away from me, I’m only a short drive from you.”

“Yes.” '

“Now go, Gemma, and fix things up.”

“Yes.” Gemma rose. She felt that suddenly she had become a zombie. She got as far as the verandah door, then remembered and turned.

“What about Harriet?” she asked.

“What do you mean, Gemma?”

“The calf,” she explained.

“I knew you were drinking too fast!” he complained.

“She was given to me, Bruce. She would have been trampled on. Her mother had given birth in a road train.”

“You mean she dropped this calf? For goodness’ sake, Gemma, don’t make a human event out of it!”

“She has seemed that to me,” admitted Gemma. “When I wanted something to love when I was lonely, she was there.”

“I understand you’ve brought a calf here.” Bruce’s voice was cold. “We’ll go into that later. In the meantime I’ll take you to Janet’s.”

“But Harriet—”

“I told you, I’ll go into that later.”

“I can’t go without Harriet,” she insisted.

“Then we’ll get her over tomorrow. Janet mightn’t have a suitable position, and you’ve already found the beast a corner.”

“Yes.”

“Then tomorrow, Gemma. Now I’ll ring Janet.” For a brief moment Bruce paused, then actually permitted a smile. “It will be all right,” he reassured her, and he kissed her brow again. “Dear, dear Gemma!”

“Dear, dear Bruce,” Gemma said mechanically, and followed him down the hall.

It was only when she was putting the few things she had taken out of her case back into the case again that Gemma realized she had not kissed Bruce back. Not once. Perhaps, she thought a little vaguely, I’m not the kissing kind.

Vet when she came to the kitchen to thank Hannah, a hurried thanks since Bruce now was blowing the horn for her to come, Gemma surprised herself—and the housekeeper.

She put her arms round and hugged Hannah, kissed her. They stood for a moment together, then Gemma wiped away a tear and Hannah blew her nose. Then Gemma left the house.

Bruce had the car door open for her, and she could see her bags at the back.

"We’ll bring your own car across tomorrow,” he said, “also speak about the calf later on.”

Before Gemma could answer, he released the brake of his own Mercedes, stepped on the accelerator, then spun across the several miles to the second satellite of the mistress house. To Janet’s, the elder sister’s, where Gemma was now to stay until the matriarch returned. I mustn’t say that, I mustn’t think that, Gemma reproved herself. Mrs. Mannering is Bruce's mother, so she will be my mother, too. All will be well.

But with the turning of the wheels, she felt her heart turning. She dared not look in the direction of Boothagullagulla, to Chris Mitchell’s, because she knew she would cry out. It will be different, she tried to tell herself, when you meet Janet. Janet is Bruce’s sister, and will l>c your sister soon. You love Bruce, so you’ll love Janet.

The Mercedes was pulling up, and a figure was
detaching itself from where it lounged against a verandah post, then coming down the front steps.

Janet. Janet Willis who had been Janet Mannering. Friend or foe? The eyes, very like Bruce’s eyes, looking back into Gemma’s, revealed nothing.

“Welcome and all the usual stuff,” Janet Willis said. She extended a cool cheek to Gemma, then led the way up to the house again.

“Jim’s out at the Rest,” Bruce’s sister told him as they all sat in the lounge. It was a very suburban-looking lounge. Gemma felt it should have taken more advantage of its unique position. She would have preferred stained floors to carpet, cane to teak, rattan to damask.

“Then it will be nice for you to have Gemma until Mother returns,” said, Bruce.

“Nice,” Janet agreed without a flicker either of enthusiasm or dismay.

“When will Mother get back?” Bruce inquired.

“Quite soon She’s doing the engagement and wedding shopping.” A quick quirk at Gemma. “You didn’t know, did you, Gemma, that Vida and I are to be your bridesmaids?”

“No, but it would be what I wanted.”

“Thank you,” coolly. “I hope, too, you’ll approve of the colours Mamma will choose. And the style. I hope it compliments yours. What is your style?”

“Was,” sighed Gemma.

“Was?”

As briefly as she could, Gemma related the wedding cake and wedding gown story. After all, they’d have to learn some time.

Janet’s face gave nothing away, but Bruce’s gave away plenty.

“That damned calf will have to go!” he snapped. “Dear brother, what waste! She would make an excellent veal calf,” Janet said slyly.

“No!” broke in Gemma, agitated.

“Take no notice of her. Gemma,” Bruce said sharply, “but do take notice of me when I say you can’t keep her. The Mannering Park cattle are number one grade. AI, we’re labelled. Good heavens, we couldn’t take the risk of accepting an interloper. She might have some kind of disease.”

“She hasn’t. Her mother had been passed as number one grade, AI, whatever it is, as well’’ . . . Gemma supposed she had . .. “and before she dropped the calf she was a prize strain.”

“How do you know this?” Bruce asked curiously.

"I was there when it happened . . . well, very soon after.”

“But
how?"
insisted Bruce.

“Harriet was born . . . dropped on a road train. The driver thought she could be trampled on. So—so he passed her on to me.”

“What colossal nerve! I’ll have a word with Bagsworth over this.”

“It wasn’t Bagsworth,” she told him.

“ Then Maloney.”

“It was the Territorian Transport.”

Bruce had risen from his easy chair. He walked to one end of Janet’s lounge, then back again.

“I might have known,” he said. “That man—”

“Bruce, the
driver
handed Gemma the wretched thing. Don’t put everything on to Tim Torrance.” It was Janet, and her voice had risen a note. “My brother” . . . Janet now had turned to Gemma . .. “has a thing about Torrance. It all happened last year when—”

“Janet, shut up!”

“Really, Bruce! In front of your fiancée!”

“I’m glad, anyway, you haven’t said in front of your sister, for by heaven, Janet—”

Janet came in quickly and diplomatically with: “Are you staying for dinner?”

“No.”

“Then go home, Bruce, and cool down. You should remember that a Mannering never boils over, only simmers. Come along, Gemma, I’ll show you your room, after which we’ll eat together. Jim will be out at the Rest until Friday, and I think Bruce would benefit from an early night. Sorry and all that, brother. Forgive?”

Bruce did not answer. '

“Well, forgive, anyway, in front of Gemma,” Janet suggested lightly, but there was a sting somewhere. Bruce, however, must have decided to go along with the idea.

“Goodnight, Janet. We’ll forget all this. Goodbye, my dear, it is lovely to have you here.”

Bruce crossed to Gemma, gave her her third kiss today on her brow, then left.

Across the suburban-looking room, Janet gazed at Gemma, then raised one sardonic brow.

“As you see, we’re a very nice family,” she said.

Janet did not attempt to show Gemma her room, in fact she seemed to have forgotten it.

“Bruce will have to take a good hard look at himself," she mumbled, as much to herself as to Gemma. "The old order changeth and all that. We’re not quite the kings that we were, not now that beef has dropped. Oh, we’re all right. Don’t look alarmed. Gemma. Your children will be attending the same exclusive schools as we did. But the winds of change will be creeping in ... already have crept. For instance where the Mannerings once paled when I mentioned Tim Torrance’s name—”

“Bruce didn’t pale, he went scarlet.”

Janet ignored the interruption. “Where the Mannerings once paled when I mentioned Tim Torrance’s name . . .
socially
. . . now I believe our dear parent will lend a sympathetic ear if Vida sings that song.”

“What song? Janet, what are you talking about?”

“About Tim Torrance, the Territorian, our local Johnny Come Lately, who, with his trucks and his trains and his big contracts, can now put many more zeros to his millions than the Mannerings ever dreamed of.”