Harriet and Victoria were still at the piano, excitedly talking songs. Harriet was teaching Victoria to pronounce the words of a Schubert song: for there was still one person in the world unacquainted with: “Du bist wie eine Blume.” And Victoria was singing it in a wavering, shy little voice.
“Let’s drink our beer by the kitchen fire,” said Jack. “Then we shall be able to hear ourselves speak, which is more than we can do in this aviary.”
Somers solemnly followed into the tiny kitchen, and they sat in front of the still hot stove.
“The women will keep up the throat-stretching for quite a time yet,” said Jack.
“If we let them. It’s getting late.”
“Oh, I’ve just started my second awakening—feel as sharp as a new tin-tack.”
“Talking about pessimism,” he resumed after a pause. “There’s some of us here that feels things are pretty shaky, you know.” He spoke in a subdued, important sort of voice.
“What is shaky—Australian finance?”
“Ay, Australian everything.”
“Well, it’s pretty much the same in every country. Where there’s such a lot of black smoke there’s not a very big fire. The world’s been going to the dogs ever since it started to toddle, apparently.”