I produced the Lindsay drawings as a counter irritant. Ma dismissed them with one blast. She said that THAT was all that men cared for, but women soon had too much of it.

I left the book about just to see—well just to have the figures seen by Aunt Jane. Pa said that there was nothing immoral in the human body, that it was a work of NATURE. Aunt Jane agreed, but said that ******** **** * ***** ** God, but that delicacy should be maintained. She put on her specs and singled out an example. ***** *** Ma said Hhhh * *** ***** ******* ** ******* *****. I had not sufficient experience to refute such dicta. I hid the drawings at the bottom of a packing case.

No one mentioned Henry. He had not written to me lately, and was still away in Queensland. I hoped he had forgotten me, but should he have done so it would be one more nail in the coffin of AMOUR, another of Pan’s “Half told Tales”.*

So many kiss today, and die tomorrow:

And is remembrance sweet, or sweet and sorrow?

For some say only sweet; and sweet and bitter some …

Ah, who can end the tale, when all the dead are dumb!

As the days passed the mail brought a newspaper with Lady Jane’s letter. She had a long paragraph about the departure of Mr. Goring Hardy, Australia’s greatest literary man. He had been in demand among smart hostesses, and there would be an ache in more than one heart, Lady Jane dared suggest, when his ship carried him away from his native shores. No Australian girl had been able to interest him, but one beauty of the glorious eyes and velvety shoulders … Easy to discern this as Edmée. She was surely destined for a brilliant career matrimonially unless she was too ambitious and stayed too long in the stable, as Big Checks put it.

Lady Jane’s letter kept me informed of those of her clients or victims whom I had met.

Aunt Jane asked me what I intended to do to help my parents. “You met Big Ears, why didn’t you improve your chances there? And what about Mrs. Crasterton’s brother?”

“I don’t think anyone would want either of those,” I murmured.

“Hadn’t Mrs. Crasterton a son too?”

“Yes, but he’s a terrible swell, wouldn’t look at anything but a SOCIETY girl.”

As the dreadful hot months dragged by, killing more and more suffering animals and pet plants and trees, I read that Big Ears had become engaged to a top notch SOCIETY girl who was also a tennis enthusiast. He was a valuable property as represented by Lady Jane. Glamour oozed from her tales of him. Yet I had discerned nought but a creature that I would have wilted to acknowledge as my mate. I hoped that Aunt Jane would miss the news of his wedding.

I found pluck to inquire of Pa what had happened to Old Grayling.