"Are you camping here, Mister?" she said.
Power was startled out of his words. He sat up straight again. "No, thanks. I came along with your father. I'm going on now."
"We can give you a shake-down. It's no worry."
"No, thanks. I must get home. I'm mustering to-morrow. Good night."
"Good night, Mister."
Power rode home at a foot pace. He thought of the girl all the way. Her beauty had moved him more than anything he had known.
Midnight had chimed at Surprise, and the camp was asleep. The party telling stories from their long chairs outside the staff quarters had been broken up an hour since in a last "A-haw." Mr. Wells had forgotten his cornet, and Mr. Horrington, rather muddled, had found his stretcher and blown out the light. Houses, humpies and tents were in the dark. But outside, the pallor of the moon fell, making filigree work of the leaves on the trees, and staring coldly into the eyes of sleepy curs, which blinked back from their beds in the grasses.
The camp was asleep; but one person had stayed awake. The slight figure of a woman sat at the top of the steps leading down from the verandah of Neville's house. She sat crouched up, chin in hands, so still as to be unearthly. She had sat thus with hardly a movement for a long time.
Maud had said good night to her father on their return. The house had seemed stifling. She went into her bedroom, drew the curtains wide from the window so that the room was filled with light, opened the door leading to the verandah, undressed, and went to bed. For more than an hour she lay awake, counting the moonbeams on the wall, and listening to the song of the mosquitoes. Then she gave up pretence. She sat up in bed, slipped a wrap round her, and crossed to the window on bare feet. The night looked very charming outside, and soon she left the room, crossed the bare boards lightly as a night spirit, and came to a little balcony at the head of the steps leading down from the verandah. She sat down on the top step, putting her naked feet on the one below.