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Fee
handed
him
a
big
glass
of
neat
rum
;
he
was
not
a
young
man
,
but
he
had
fought
as
long
as
it
was
needed
,
and
directed
operations
with
a
master
's
touch
.
"
It
's
silly
,
"
she
said
to
him
,
"
but
when
it
looked
as
if
it
all
might
go
I
kept
thinking
of
the
most
peculiar
things
.
I
did
n't
think
of
dying
,
or
of
the
children
,
or
of
this
beautiful
house
in
ruins
.
All
I
could
think
of
were
my
sewing
basket
,
my
half-done
knitting
,
the
box
of
odd
buttons
I
'd
been
saving
for
years
,
my
heart-shaped
cake
pans
Frank
made
me
years
ago
.
How
could
I
survive
without
them
?
All
the
little
things
,
you
know
,
the
things
which
ca
n't
be
replaced
,
or
bought
in
a
shop
.
"
"
That
's
how
most
women
think
,
as
a
matter
of
fact
.
Funny
,
is
n't
it
,
how
the
mind
reacts
?
I
remember
in
1905
my
wife
running
back
into
the
house
while
I
yelled
after
her
like
a
madman
,
just
to
get
a
tambour
with
a
bit
of
fancywork
on
it
.
"
He
grinned
.
"
But
we
got
out
in
time
,
though
we
lost
the
house
.
When
I
built
the
new
place
,
the
first
thing
she
did
was
finish
the
fancywork
.
It
was
one
of
those
old-fashioned
samplers
,
you
know
the
sort
I
mean
.
And
it
said
'
Home
Sweet
Home
.
'
"
He
put
down
the
empty
glass
,
shaking
his
head
over
the
strangenes
of
women
.
"
I
must
go
.
Gareth
Davies
is
going
to
need
us
on
Narrengang
,
and
unless
I
miss
my
guess
so
will
Angus
on
Rudna
Hunish
.
"
Fee
whitened
.
"
Oh
,
Martin
!
So
far
away
?
"
"
The
word
's
out
,
Fee
.
Booroo
and
Bourke
are
rallying
.
"
*
*
*
For
three
days
more
the
fire
rampaged
eastward
on
a
front
that
kept
widening
and
widening
,
then
came
a
sudden
heavy
fall
of
rain
that
lasted
for
nearly
four
days
,
and
quenched
every
last
coal
.
But
it
had
gone
over
a
hundred
miles
and
laid
a
charred
,
blackened
path
twenty
miles
wide
from
midway
out
across
Drogheda
to
the
boundary
of
the
last
property
in
the
Gillanbone
district
eastward
,
Rudna
Hunish
.
Until
it
began
to
rain
no
one
expected
to
hear
from
Paddy
,
for
they
thought
him
safely
on
the
far
side
of
the
burned
zone
,
cut
off
from
them
by
heat
in
the
ground
and
the
still-flaring
trees
.
Had
the
fire
not
brought
the
telephone
line
down
,
Bob
thought
they
would
have
got
a
call
from
Martin
King
,
for
it
was
logical
that
Paddy
would
strike
westward
for
shelter
at
Bugela
homestead
.
But
when
the
rain
had
been
falling
for
six
hours
and
there
was
still
no
sign
of
him
,
they
began
to
worry
.
For
almost
four
days
they
had
been
assuring
themselves
continually
that
there
was
no
reason
to
be
anxious
,
that
of
course
he
was
just
cut
off
,
and
had
decided
to
wait
until
he
could
head
for
his
own
home
rather
than
go
to
Bugela
.
"
He
ought
to
be
in
by
now
,
"
said
Bob
,
pacing
up
and
down
the
drawing
room
while
the
others
watched
;
the
irony
of
it
was
that
the
rain
had
brought
a
dank
chill
into
the
air
,
and
once
more
a
bright
fire
burned
in
the
marble
hearth
.
