As Glen was leaving, having bid good-bye to Clara, he said, "On my return I may have something to tell you; something which I hope will be for our happiness."
She smiled brightly, guessing what he meant. There was a prospect of sailing into a peaceful harbour after a stormy life. Glen Leigh was indeed a man. He had not even questioned her about the past, or her relations with Bellshaw.
The horses, and all the paraphernalia of the show, went to Melbourne by steamer, Glen and Jim going with them. During the short voyage Glen thought Jim taciturn and ill-tempered. He asked him the cause.
"I'm sick of life," said Jim, "I never seem to get anything out of it. You and Bill have all the luck."
"I don't think you've done so badly," objected Glen, "and now you have a share in the show. What more do you want?"
"A good deal more. I want happiness, and I don't seem in the way of getting it."
"Why not? What troubles you? Tell me, lad; I may be able to help you."
Then, as they sat on deck, Jim poured out the vials of his ill-tempered wrath on Glen's head. He told how he loved Clara, but that she avoided, shunned him. He complained that it was very hard lines he, Glen, should come between them. For a long time he went on grumbling, and Glen listened to him patiently not saying a word. He let him exhaust himself before he made any reply.
"Jim, you're a fool," said Glen. "When she first came across my path and found her way to my hut, as I sat and nursed her back to life, you helping me, I thought I loved her. I was sure of it. That same feeling possessed me when we came to Sydney. It remained with me until something happened which opened my eyes, something totally unexpected. She put her arms round my neck and kissed me."
"I know," said Jim. "I know. She always does. She loves you."