But Mrs. De Lisle has never met Guy Turner. He is still “riding tracks” on Jinfalla, and consequently she knows nothing of Dick Stanesby’s hutkeeper, or of a solitary grave by the Woonawidgee creek.
THE YANYILLA STEEPLECHASE
My dear, my dear, so you want to know why I am an old maid?
Well, nobody asked me to marry them, I suppose that must have been it.
No? What? You think I must have been pretty. Pretty, was I pretty?
They said I was then, dear, but you see there wasn’t another lady within fifty miles, and that made the difference, just all the difference. You ‘ve a pretty little girl, Hope—it wasn’t fair to have called you Hope, it’s such an unlucky name—but if you’d been young when I was they’d just have raved about you.
Had I lovers, dear?
Of course I had lovers. Every woman who isn’t downright repulsive has, I think. Willie Maclean doesn’t come here to see me, does he? Ah! I thought—
There, never mind, there’s no harm done. It’s thirty years since the men used to ride across the ranges just to stay the night at Yanyilla, and I don’t think it was wholly for your grandfather’s society they came. Of course I had lovers. It’s so long ago I can tell you about them now; but mostly, dear, I don’t think a woman should tell. She gets the credit of it, I know, but she ought not to, and I do think there are many things a nice woman, I mean a good woman, keeps to herself.