Jaz looked at him searchingly.
“You don’t like to commit yourself?” he said, with a sly smile.
“Not altogether that. I’d commit myself, if I could. It’s just something inside me shakes its head and holds back.”
Jaz studied his knuckles for some time.
“Yes,” he said slowly. “Perhaps you can afford to stand out. You’ve got your life in other things. Some of us feel we haven’t got any life if we’re not—if we’re not mixed up in something.” He paused, and Richard waited. “But the point is this—” Jaz looked up again with his light-grey, serpent’s eyes. “Do you yourself see Kangaroo pulling it off?” There was a subtle mockery in the question.
“What?”
“Why—you know. This revolution, and this new Australia. Do you see him figuring on the Australian postage stamps—and running the country like a new Jerusalem?”
The eyes watched Richard fixedly.
“If he’s got a proper backing, why not?” Somers answered.
“I don’t say why not. I ask you, will he? Won’t you say how you feel?”