towards him, wanting to destroy him, as in those early days when they used to play chess together.
"No," said Harriet, watching Lovat's face. "I suppose I shall have to trail myself along, poor woman, till I see the end of him."
"He'll lead you many a dance before that happens," grinned Richard. He rather enjoyed Jack's malevolence this time.
"Ha, you've led me all your dances that you know," she retorted. "I know there'll be nothing new, unfortunately."
"Why don't you stay in Australia?" Jack said to her, with the same quiet, husky note of intimacy, insistency, and the reddish light on his face.
She was somewhat startled and offended. Wasn't the man sober, or what?
"Oh, he wouldn't give me any money, and I haven't a sou of my own," she said lightly, laughing it off.
"You wouldn't be short of money," said Jack. "Plenty of money."
"You see I couldn't just live on charity, could I?" she replied, delicately.
"It wouldn't be charity."
"What then?"
There was a very awkward pause. Then a wicked redness came into Jack's face, and a flicker into his voice.
"Appreciation. You'd be appreciated." He seemed to speak with muted lips. There was a cold silence. Harriet was offended now.
"I'll just clear the table," she said, rising briskly.
Jack sat rather slack in his chair, his long, malevolent body half sunk, and his chin dropped.
"What boat do you think you'll catch?" he asked.
"The Manganui. Why?"
But Jack did not speak. He sat there with his head sunk on his chin, his body half-turgid, as if he were really not quite sober.
"You won't be honouring Australia long with your presence," he said ironically.
"Nor dishonouring it," said Richard. He was like a creature that is going to escape. Some of the fear he had felt for Kangaroo he now felt for Jack. Jack was really very
