Page:Triangles of life, and other stories.djvu/201

Rh say, "Wait till the new house is built." It was no home for a woman. I can see that now.

You remember how I was always talking about making a nice home for Mary, and giving her more of my time, and trying to make her life a little brighter when things brightened up. I tried to do it by taking her trips to Sydney whenever I could get her to go, leaving her brother James to look after the station. At first I'd send the black boy ahead with fresh horses, and we'd flash down in the buggy the hundred miles or so of glorious mountain and valley road to Wallerawang, leave the buggy and two horses there, and take the train over the Blue Mountains to the Big Smoke. Then again, when wool was up, I'd take berths in a sleeping carriage from Dubbo, and put up at the Royal in Sydney, and do the thing in great style. But Mary thought the sleeping carriage was unnecessary expense, and she didn't like stopping at an hotel. She was always anxious about me and the drink. She preferred some "cheap, quiet place." "A run of bad seasons might come along at any time, Joe," she said, "and then you'll be sorry for the money you throw away now."

I thought it was very unjust of her to talk of throwing away money when I was only trying to give her pleasure—but then women were always unjust and unreasonable.

"If we don't enjoy ourselves when we've got the chance, we never will," I said.

"We could do that just as well at home, Joe," said Mary, "if you only knew—if you'd listen to me, and go the right way to work about it. Why can't you