But it was usually in theafternoons he went down to
it. After hes killed me here, camethe whispered moan. A huge but a cold passion
swinging back and forth.
Harriet brought the tea-tray on to the verandah.
They were charming: much nicer than the older youths,or the men.
Nothing but the absolute drive ofthe worlds work
kept them going.
Yes, youve killed me, whispered Kangaroo
hoarsely.
Clear as the air about him this truth possessed
him. The light on thewaves was like liquid radium swinging and
slipping.
Thesoft, blue, humanless sky of Australia, the
pale, white unwrittenatmosphere of Australia.
Well I prefer not to see, and yet to give in, said
Richard.
Perhaps a sort of dark shore octopus,star-fish
coloured amid its darkness. But human love as an all in all, ah, no, thestrain and
the unreality of it were too great. It is the land that as yet has made no
greatmistake, humanly. Then one can meet as worshippers, in a sacred contactin the
dark.
To be soullessand alone, by the Southern Ocean, in
Australia.
And meaning is the most meaningless of illusions. A
woman like that ought tostop in a new country like this and breed sons for
us.
He had now a horror of vast super-incumbent
buildings.
I love nobody and I likenobody, and theres the end
of it, as far as Im concerned. The motor-cars rushing up the coast road must watch
forthem. The coloured pebbles shone, the redanemones pursed themselves
up.
One day the fins of dolphinsnear, it seemed almost
over the sea edge.
Something more than a mere days work and
agamble.
Which being so, he proceeded, as ever, to try to
disentangle himselffrom the white octopus of love. Its like giving in to a woman; I
wont givein yet. Jack looked at Richard and made him a sharp, angry sign with his
brows,as if bidding him comply. Theyd have to be your sons, thats the trouble, old
man.
Sitting at the edge of the bush he looked at the
settlement and the seabeyond.
The motor-cars rushing up the coast road must watch
forthem.
Something more than a mere days work and
agamble.
That mans killed me, he said in a distinct voice.
The bungalows werebuilt mostly on the sides of the slopes. The heart of thetownship
was one tiny bit of street a hundred yards long: Main Street.
All things are relative, and have theirsacredness
in their true relation to all other things.
Statement of fact, he said, in his faint, husky
voice.
A long, cadaverous-yellow face, exactly the face of
a deadman, but with an animals dark eyes. Nearly always a little loggia atthe back,
from which the house-door opened. Richard could see Coo-ee with its low,red roof,
right on the sea.