Earles watched her anxiously. His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples. He read "The Beachcombers" to McClintock that night after coffee; and when he had done, the old trader nodded. "What does he say?" roared the long drover. She was silent, the ghost of a fading smile passed from her lips. Melusine tried to squash down, still trying to maintain her guard. Anyhow, now you’ve begun it, there’s nothing to keep us in all this from being the best friends in the world.
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