might be for me to teach you! You have never cared for anyone in the real sense of the word. Of course I know that you don't care and never have cared for me in that way, though I believe that you have a more solid affection for me than you ever had for anyone."
"That is true, Frank."
"I don't believe that you have ever loved Blake in the real sense either. You were dazzled by him at the begining. There was a glamour of romance about him, and he has a way of compelling interest and admiration. Oh, I saw it all at Goondi, at the election time. And Ina saw it, too. Ina always said that you were only fascinated, and that it would pass away. Ina has been my best friend all through. If it hadn't been for her I should have given up hope."
"Frank, it is Ina you ought to have cared for, not me." Frank winced. He did not answer. There was a little silence. Presently he said, "Elsie, I am right. You will get over this girlish fancy: I am not afraid. I will wait."
They had crossed the bridge, and had passed out of the long straggling street of the South Side, as it was called, and now they were in a quiet road, bordered with gum trees, which gave out an aromatic fragrance into the night. Elsie had grown calm. Frank still kept his arm about her, but he had attempted no closer caress. They drove for some little way in silence. The lights of Emu Point and of the houses in Riverside Paddock began to show in front of them.
"Elsie," Frank said, "will you tell me what you are thinking?"
"I will tell you when we reach home," she said quietly. "I will give you your answer then. Don't speak to me till we reach home."
He obeyed her, and they did not speak another word till the cab drew up in front of the little garden gate of the cottage. There was a light in the drawing-room, and Peter, the Kanaka, was acting as watch dog in the verandah. Frank helped Elsie to get out, and told the cabman to wait.
