“I really wish, Alec, you could talk a little time without bringing in your everlasting horse-racing. There are other things in the world besides horses.”
“So there are, Bertha,” said Alec soothingly; “there are cattle and sheep. But, you see, they are not in my line.”
“You’re a goose,” replied Bertha, laughing, “and I half believe you are making fun of me all the time. Where did you go yesterday afternoon?”
“I have been house-hunting. It seems the proper thing, when I am engaged to a girl like you, to find a home to please her, and I wanted to give you a surprise.”
“You choose a house!” with a tone that made Alec feel two inches shorter. “What should a man know about a house?”
“So I concluded, and I decided that you had best please yourself. Where would you like to live? I was thinking of Randwick—a nice stylish place.”
“What, live away from the harbour—the sea—with nothing to look at but houses and sand-hills? That would be horrible!”
“Where then, my dear? Choose your own place; it’s all the same to me.”
“I have always dreamt of one of those cottages with wide verandahs near the harbour, with a water frontage, a little house for a boat, and green lawns and gardens right down to the water. That would be lovely!”
“I never thought of that. But they are very awkward to drive to, generally, those sort of places. But I was at Bob Simmons’s place the other day—it’s just the kind of house you would like and we had some fine sport with the dogs killing rats down on the rocks. One old rat was real game, and no mistake!”