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"
Least
of
all
.
"
"
Interesting
.
"
Pushing
the
window
all
the
way
up
,
she
stepped
through
into
the
drawing
room
.
"
Ralph
,
Cardinal
de
Bricassart
!
"
she
mocked
.
But
away
from
those
discerning
eyes
of
his
she
sagged
back
into
her
wing
chair
and
clenched
her
fists
,
the
gesture
which
rails
against
the
inconsistencies
of
fate
.
Naked
,
Father
Ralph
stepped
off
the
veranda
to
stand
on
the
barbered
lawn
with
his
arms
raised
above
his
head
,
eyes
closed
;
he
let
the
rain
pour
over
him
in
warm
,
probing
,
spearing
runnels
,
an
exquisite
sensation
on
bare
skin
.
It
was
very
dark
.
But
he
was
still
flaccid
.
*
*
*
The
creek
broke
its
banks
and
the
water
crept
higher
up
the
piles
of
Paddy
's
house
,
farther
out
across
the
Home
Paddock
toward
the
homestead
itself
.
"
It
will
go
down
tomorrow
,
"
said
Mary
Carson
when
Paddy
went
to
report
,
worried
.
As
usual
,
she
was
right
;
over
the
next
week
the
water
ebbed
and
finally
returned
to
its
normal
channels
.
The
sun
came
out
,
the
temperature
zoomed
to
a
hundred
and
fifteen
in
the
shade
,
and
the
grass
seemed
to
take
wing
for
the
sky
,
thigh-high
and
clean
,
bleached
brilliant
as
gilt
,
hurting
the
eyes
.
Washed
and
dusted
,
the
trees
glittered
,
and
the
hordes
of
parrots
came
back
from
wherever
they
had
gone
while
the
rain
fell
to
flash
their
rainbow
bodies
amid
the
timber
,
more
loquacious
than
ever
.
Father
Ralph
had
returned
to
succor
his
neglected
parishioners
,
serene
in
the
knowledge
his
knuckles
would
not
be
rapped
;
under
the
pristine
white
shirt
next
to
his
heart
resided
a
check
for
one
thousand
pounds
.
The
bishop
would
be
ecstatic
.
The
sheep
were
moved
back
to
their
normal
pasture
and
the
Clearys
were
forced
to
learn
the
Outback
habit
of
siesta
.
