"It really was too suggestive, you know. The Assassouis are not in it."
Frank Hallett approached her. He knew in his heart, knew by the look on Elsie's face, that he was in the pitiful position of the supplanted lover. But he bore himself with a certain stolid dignity.
"I am very sorry to have left you," he said. "Ina wanted to speak to me. I was afraid you would find that dancing and everything rather too much for you. I am so glad Blake took you away."
"Well, I think after a certain stage a corroboree is not quite a scene for ladies," said Blake with commendable composure, "and so Lady Waveryng seems to fancy. That screeching has tried even my nerves," he added. "I have got the only ailment I ever suffer from—torturing neuralgia—and was thankful to escape for a few minutes with Miss Valliant from that Walpurgis Saturnalia. If you'll excuse me I think I shall go and turn in at once. I've got to join Trant to-morrow morning at the Gorge as early as may be. It isn't altogether the case of a butcher," he added, addressing Frank with an air of candour. "The man who is coming from over the border is something else besides being a butcher, and as a matter of fact, we are in treaty with him for the sale of the Gorge as a breeding paddock. Trant doesn't want it to get about yet, but of course, Hallett, I am safe with you; and, besides, it may come to nothing."
He turned off to one of the supernumerary huts which served as a bachelors' quarters, where he and Trant were lodged, and Elsie and Frank were alone.
"Elsie," Frank said quietly, but with a break in his voice that belied his composure, "you love that man still?"
"Oh, Frank," she cried, "be kind to me. Don't ask me anything to-night."
"Kind to you!" Frank repeated. "Have I ever been anything but kind to you? If it's to end, Elsie, let it end now."
"Do you want it to end?" she asked.
