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Updated: June 15, 2025
Catching sight of each other, they nodded, and blushed, and nodded again; and then the Postmaster, neglecting the business of the country, went upon his own business into the private sitting-room of the Little Milliner; for those wandering laughs from O'Fallen's had done the work set for them by the high powers.
The regret was hers; though he never knew that. It is a lonely life on the dry plains of Nindobar. He was very drunk; and because of that Victoria Lindley, barmaid at O'Fallen's, was angry not at him but at O'Fallen, who had given him the liquor. She knew more about him than any one else. The first time she saw him he was not sober.
Dicky sometimes went over to Long Neck Billabong, where Old Roses lived, for a reel, as he put it, and he always carried away a deep impression of the Inspector's qualities. "Had his day," said Dicky in O'Fallen's sitting-room one night, "in marble halls, or I'm a Jack. Run neck and neck with almighty swells once.
The regret was hers; though he never knew that. It is a lonely life on the dry plains of Nindobar. He was very drunk; and because of that Victoria Lindley, barmaid at O'Fallen's, was angry not at him but at O'Fallen, who had given him the liquor. She knew more about him than any one else. The first time she saw him he was not sober.
From the door she watched him till the curtains of dust rose up about him and hid him from sight. When he came back to Wadgery months after he was a terrible wreck; so much so that Vic could hardly look at him at first; and she wished that she had left O'Fallen's as she threatened, and so have no need to furnish any man swizzles. She knew he would never pull himself together now.
Apart from his duties he kept mostly to himself, though when not travelling he always went down to O'Fallen's Hotel once a day for a glass of whisky and water whisky kept especially for him; and as he drank this slowly he talked to Victoria Lindley the barmaid, or to any chance visitors whom he knew.
Forthwith, that there might be no possible unpleasantness for even such hostesses have their duties of tact she politely introduced him as Mr. Jones. He had been a man of innumerable occupations nothing long: caretaker of tanks, rabbit-trapper, boundary-rider, cook at a shearers' camp, and, in due time, he became book-keeper at O'Fallen's. That was due to Vic. Mr.
Dicky sometimes went over to Long Neck Billabong, where Old Roses lived, for a reel, as he put it, and he always carried away a deep impression of the Inspector's qualities. "Had his day," said Dicky in O'Fallen's sitting-room one night, "in marble halls, or I'm a Jack. Run neck and neck with almighty swells once.
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