The quick twist of a grin was on Randal’s mouth. He caught the heavy reins where they spun to him, and the brake flew up as the horses leapt as one.
Kiliat passed behind with a shout and a quick scramble that brought him to his knees in the coach-bottom. Randal cut the leaders with the lash, thanking Heaven that the coach carried no window.
“Say what you want to before we get to the bridge,” he said. “I must walk over that. The offsider is too skittish.”
“You—you haven’t said you’re glad to see me, yet, Guy.”
Randal’s deep breath was very nearly a groan.
“Does a man go about saying he is glad to be alive? What can I tell you that you don’t know, Effie?”
Her hand was on his left arm, and her face was close to his shoulder, as Art’s had been so few hours ago.
“Tell me that you’re not forgetting me, Guy.”
“Effie—don’t! Dear, you don’t know how cruel you are to me sometimes. I—wouldn’t ask you that.”
“I’m going to test you, Guy. I’m going away. For months; I don’t know how many.”
“Where?”
“The North Island—Sydney—Melbourne.
