Dulcie. That's a popular error, as you'll find out by and by. They work in some ways, but not usually with their hands, except when pioneering or exploring.
Egremont. Well, am I not pioneering?
Dulcie (bursting out laughing). What! upon three hundred and twenty acres of land! Excuse my rudeness in laughing.
Egremont (rather nettled). We think it a decent-sized piece of land in England.
Dulcie. Oh, do you, really? I beg your pardon, but father did all the pioneering work here years and years ago. Fought the blacks when he took up the country, and was speared by them when I was a little girl. So there isn't much pioneering left for you to do, is there?
Egremont. I wish there was.
Dulcie. Oh, do you? Then why don't you go outside?
Egremont. Outside—outside—where's that? I thought I was pretty well outside here; I haven't slept under a roof these two months.
Dulcie (laughing again). Oh, indeed, I didn't mean that. Of course you're outside now; I wish you were not. I'm afraid you'll get a dreadful cold, the weather is so changeable; but I mean real outside country, beyond the settled districts, in Queensland, Western Australia, Kimberley—anywhere.
Egremont. But how far off is that?