So Somers scrambled round up the banks, on to the railway track.
“I couldn’t come down for the moment,” said William James. “I’ll have to see the manager, then I’m going off on this boat. We’re ready to go. You heard her blowing.”
“Where are you going? Back to Sydney.”
“Yes. I come down occasionally on this coal-business, and if I like I go back on the collier. The sea is quiet, and I needn’t wait for a train. Well, an’ how’re you gettin’ on, like? Pleased with it down here all by yourselves?”
“Very.”
“A bit lonely for you. I suppose you wouldn’t like to know the manager here—Mr Thomas? He’s a decent chap—from South Wales originally.”
“No. I like it best when I don’t know anybody.”
“That’s a compliment for some of us. However—I know what you mean. I know what you mean. Jack tells me you saw Kangaroo. Made quite a fuss of you, I hear. I knew he would. Oh, Kangaroo knew all about you: all he wanted to know, anyhow. I say, if ye think of stoppin’ down here, you might get in a ton of coal. It looks as if this strike might come off. That Arbitration Board’s a fine failure, what?”
“As far as I gather.”
“Oh, bound to be. Bound to be. They talk about scraps of paper, why, every agreement that’s ever come to in this country, you could wrap your next red herring in it, for all it’s worth.”