"Yes, I know Glen Leigh—a most interesting man," said Jerry Makeshift.

He was at Sea View, Mrs. Prevost's house at Manley. She had invited him there with the purpose to find out something about the daring rider of The Savage.

"Tell me about him. I admire his riding," she said.

Jerry gave her a full account of Glen's career as far as he knew it. She had read "The Sketch," but he embellished what he had written there for her gratification.

"So he was a keeper of the fence," she said thoughtfully. "Fancy a man like that being exiled there. I wonder why he went?"

"A woman probably," said Jerry.

"That's always the way when a man banishes himself from society. It's always a woman who is the cause," she said.

"And don't you think nine times out of ten it is so?" he asked.

"No, the man is often more to blame than the woman. Take my case."

"Which is an exception," he said smiling.

"Will you bring him here? I should like to meet him. Do you think he would come?"

"I'll try. He's not a shy man, but he doesn't go out much. Are you anxious to know him?" asked Jerry.

"He interests me," she answered.

"Then I'll try and fix it up. Only promise me not to draw him into your clutches; you are so fascinating. Look at me, I worship you."

"Jerry, you're a humbug. You don't care a straw for anyone except yourself," she laughed.

"That's all you know. I have done some generous actions in my time, that it won't do to speak about; it would sound too much like blowing my own trumpet," he said.

Jerry had some difficulty in inducing Glen Leigh to go to Manley, but succeeded at last, and they went together.

"Who is Mrs. Prevost?" asked Glen.

Jerry explained as much as he thought proper. There was no occasion to mention Bellshaw. If his name cropped up in conversation it would not be his fault.

Mrs. Prevost was agitated. She almost wished she had not asked Jerry to bring him, and yet she was desirous of making Glen's acquaintance. Already, before she knew him, he had a peculiar fascination for her. She felt angry because it was so. The feeling was quite new and strange; hitherto she had been cold and calculating. She knew all this would vanish where Glen Leigh was concerned.

They arrived before lunch, and when Glen saw Mrs. Prevost he was at once struck with her peculiar charm of manner. No sooner was he in her presence than all her doubts and agitation vanished, and she exerted herself to her utmost to please him.

Glen was quite willing to be pleased by this handsome woman, whose preference for him was already beginning to be marked.

Jerry smiled as he watched her. He knew her powers. No woman had ever gone so near to capturing him as she, but he had steeled himself against her. His career did not include a wife; he could not afford the luxury, he said.

It was a nice luncheon. Glen thoroughly enjoyed it, and complimented Mrs. Prevost on the possession of such an excellent cook.

"He's a Chinaman," she said smiling. "One of the despised heathens, but I have had him several years, and he has served me well. I found him."

"Found him!" exclaimed Glen.

"Yes. It's quite correct; strange though it seems."

"Where did you find him?"

"Some years ago when he was quite young. He lived with his uncle in Lower George Street. He offended the great man in some way, and he turned him out of the house. He was wandering about when I came along. He spoke to me, pleaded hard for me to make him my servant. Strange, was it not? Something prompted me to take him in. I did, and have never regretted it. He appears to have one set purpose in life, to pay his uncle, Lin Soo, back in his own coin, and have his revenge. Most unchristian-like isn't it? But of course he's a heathen," she said laughing.

"Lin Soo is his uncle!" said Glen.

"Yes. Why? Do you know him?"

"Not exactly, but I know of him. He keeps an infamous den in Lower George Street."

"I thought it was a tea shop," she said.

"To outward appearances, but inside it's an opium den, a gambling hell, and worse," Glen replied.

"Worse!" she exclaimed enquiringly.

Glen did not care to pursue the subject and she asked no further questions.

No mention was made of Craig Bellshaw, and Glen left, not knowing she was intimate with the squatter. He promised to call again. She knew by his ready acceptance that she had made a favourable impression, and she was more pleased than she had been for many a day. She walked to the steamer with them, and when the boat left sat down on a seat at one side of the wharf. Why should she not have her share of happiness in life? It had been denied her so far. There had been riotous living, and much pleasure, but no peace, no contentment. It was all a struggle, and part of a game which she had been forced to play, but never cared for.

She walked slowly back to her house, thinking all the time, hoping, wishing as she had never wished before. If a man like Glen Leigh had come into her life years ago, how different everything would have been. She felt she had great capacity for making a man she loved happy. She was in the prime of life, good-looking, robust, full of health and spirits, and she did not lack money. Why should she not find a fitting mate? A man who would condone the past, forget, or shut his eyes to it, and love her for herself. Glen Leigh was a man after her own heart, the stamp of man she had always admired. No matter what he thought of her, or whether they were merely acquaintances, she would never forget him. She made a firm resolve to try and win him; she would exert all her powers to that end. She craved for the real love of a man to meet the love she knew she had to give. It would not be half-hearted love or cold surrender. She wanted the real thing, not a sham. She had had too much of shams; she was sick of them. She longed for honesty, not deception, pretence, lies. There was Craig Bellshaw. He must be made to understand that she desired to sever all connections with him. She would write and tell him so. If he insisted on seeing her for a personal explanation she supposed she must grant him an interview, but it would be the last; she vowed it.

Glen Leigh little knew the storm of feeling he had raised in Mrs. Prevost. Had anyone told him he would have laughed at the idea. In answer to Jerry he said he thought Mrs. Prevost a very nice woman.

"Handsome, eh?" said Jerry.

"Yes, and she's a jolly good sort I should say."

"So she is. I wonder some fellow hasn't snapped her up long ago," Jerry answered.

"She's better as she is," said Glen.

"Not she. In her case I should say she ought to have a mate. She looks a woman who could make a man happy."

"There's no telling," declared Glen gloomily.

The Buckjumping Show was a huge success, and a large ground had been taken for it in Melbourne for a month, during which time the Caulfield and Melbourne Cups would be decided.

Glen was surprised when his share was calculated by Bill Bigs. It was far more than he had expected in his most sanguine moments. Jim Benny was given a bonus with which he was more than contented. Nearly all Jim's spare time was spent with Clara, who was in perfect health, and had developed into a very pretty woman. Her mind, however, was still a blank as regards everything before she came to Glen Leigh's hut. Glen thought some sudden shock might restore the lost memories. At the same time the effect might be serious. Probably it would be better for her peace to remain as she was. Glen's feelings towards her were difficult to analyse. He knew by the way she always greeted him that she regarded him as a father. At first he thought he loved her, but gradually this feeling lessened, and he knew it was pity and compassion that had grown in him, not love. He was more solicitous towards her than he had ever been, spoke kindly, looked after her every comfort, and she trusted and idolised him—but not as a lover.

With Jim it was different. He was younger than Glen, and there was no doubt about his affection for her. She treated him differently from Glen, was more reserved, never kissed him; she shrank away when he came too near, and was nervous in his presence.

Jim noticed all this and misunderstood. He thought her love was all for Glen Leigh, and this embittered him. He had not the strength of character of the elder man, could not stand trials so well, was soon cast down and dispirited. He had seen her kiss Glen when they met—she always did—and yet when he came near her she shrank away.

Glen seemed to get the best out of life, while he, Jim, had hardly anything to look forward to.

He forgot what Glen had done for him. A growing jealousy rose against his comrade; such feelings were easily roused in him.

"I must know what he means, what she means," said Jim to himself. "It's torturing me. I can't stand it—I won't."