since you're so set on it. There'll be plenty of time when we're better off.'

After tea, when the youngsters were in bed, and she'd washed up,

we sat outside on the edge of the verandah floor, Mary sewing,

and I smoking and watching the track up the creek.

`Why don't you talk, Joe?' asked Mary. `You scarcely ever speak to me now:

it's like drawing blood out of a stone to get a word from you.

`Well, I've got nothing to say.'

`But you should find something. Think of me -- it's very miserable for me.