“ Surely they make an even greater fuss of you.”
“ Do they! It’s you they want, not me. And you go as usual, like a lamb to the slaughter.”
“ Baa!” he said.
“ Yes, baa! You should hear yourself bleat.”
“ I’ll listen,” he said.
But Harriet was becoming discontented. They had been in their house only six weeks: and she had had enough of it. Yet it was paid for for three months: at four guineas a week. And they were pretty short of money, and would be for the rest of the year. He had already overdrawn.
Yet she began to suggest going away: away from Sydney. She felt humiliated in that beastly little Murdoch Street.
“ What did I tell you?” he retorted. “The very look of it humiliated me. Yet you wanted it, and you said you liked it.”
“ I did like it—for the fun of it. But
