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'Why, my dear, she's wildly in love with him already, rejoined Lady Tallant, to Joan Gildea's surprise. 'You've seen it? 'I'm not blind, and I know Biddy. But I've seen that she's taking this affair differently from the others, and that's what makes me think it has gone deeper. A very good thing for Biddy. 'You can't mean that it would be a good thing for Biddy to marry Colin McKeith?
Certain phrases in that letter he had read long ago on Joan Gildea's veranda, and which had been haunting him ever since Willoughby Maule's re-appearance, struck his heart with the searing effect of lightning.
But when Mrs Gildea got home very tired, and hot she was made extremely angry by hearing the voices of Lady Bridget and McKeith in the veranda where they were drinking tea and, it seemed, holding a confidential conversation. Mrs Gildea's gorge rose higher. She had to stop a minute to try and recover her temper.
'I guess that Lady Bridget would be better pleased if she wasn't handed over to a rough bushman. 'Now, there you ARE quite out of it, laughed the aide-de-camp. 'Lady Bridget asked specially to be sent in with you, and at Mrs Gildea's enquiring smile, he explained once more: 'Sir Luke was speaking about Mr McKeith, said his name had been mentioned at a meeting of the Executive yesterday.
Yes, put it there, Colin, please.... And now, if Biddy doesn't mind, we'll proceed to business, which is my IMPERIALIST Letter. I suppose you haven't brought back any snapshots of Alexandra City and your wonderful Gas-Bore that Mr Gibbs could get worked up for his paper? That was not the only time Lady Bridget and McKeith met on Mrs Gildea's veranda.
'Any admittance, Mrs Gildea, except on business, during working hours? 'Yes, it is working hours Colin, but you happen to be business because you're just the person I'm wanting to speak to, so come along. 'Good for me, Joan, and the man came along, clearing the rest of the garden path and the veranda steps in three strides. He gripped Mrs Gildea's hand.
It was easy to round the point, skirt the Botanical Gardens, and, crossing above the ferry, land below Mrs Gildea's cottage, then climb up the bank and enter by a lower gate to the garden. Thus she would often turn up unexpectedly of mornings for a chat with her friend in the veranda study. At this time, Colin McKeith contracted a similar habit.
After that Colin pointedly abstained from allusion to the Ideal Wife and to Joan Gildea's Typewriting-Correspondent, as he had called her. He was very busy himself at this time in connection with a threatened labour strike that was agitating sheep and cattle owners of the Leura District.
Not in astonishment a proof to Joan that he had seen it before but in a kind of unwilling fascination, most upsetting to Mrs Gildea's sense of responsibility in the matter. The Visionary Woman of the camp-fire!
Oh, I really must put you into one of my articles as a certain type of modern Australian. In fact, Colin, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. 'All right, fire away. We'll drop the marriage question. 'To be resumed later. A quizzical look passed over Mrs Gildea's mouth, and then, 'Oh, what a pity! she muttered to herself. 'What's a pity? 'Never mind!
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