The swell of members and members’ wives closed about her and their talk buzzed and eddied about her head:

‘We had upwards of two hundred at the meeting at Marrickville.’

‘The rain has been so bad in the west there is a real concern it will prevent those in remote locations getting to the polling stations.’

‘The Evening News covered my speech at the town hall two nights ago, but what they said about it in the Herald this morning was nothing short of scandalous.’

‘I understand Reid got a fifteen-minute ovation and a bunch of roses from the Young Women’s Institute.’

‘I heard he was assailed by a delegation of the Women’s Suffrage League and was fortunate to escape with his life.’

Federation. Federation. Federation.

For the colony was new. It was sparsely populated, it clung to the fringes of a great empire, eternally gazing beyond its own shores, taken up with momentous events happening elsewhere, its nose pressed forever against the windowpane of Global Affairs. But tonight these gentlemen—her husband and these others—had their own momentous event right here in this very city, in this very room. No wonder they were excited. No wonder they talked of nothing else.

Federation. Federation. Federation.

Relentless as a bee beating itself against a closed window, a branch tapping the bedroom window all night long. As relentless as a wife awaiting her husband’s return for the length of a long, cold June night. For she blamed the Federation. It had caused this situation with her husband. Or if not caused it, had allowed it. She saw that. She saw also that a referendum was merely an event and nationhood was an idea and neither could, in themselves, come between a husband and wife. Only a husband and wife could do that.

It was possible to hold two mutually incompatible ideas in one’s head simultaneously. It was what made one Human.

As she thought this, a gentleman behind her said loudly, ‘I just saw Jellicoe. No, he certainly was not coming in. Looked like he was emptying his office and preparing to depart.’

Eleanor turned but could not make out who spoke nor to whom—so many bearded gentlemen all talking at once. She looked past them to the doorway of the chamber and beyond to the foyer where it seemed she must see Jellicoe in his flight. But she saw only the tall hats of a dozen jostling members and the fluffy haze of ostrich feathers from the hats of a dozen overdressed wives.

She did not wish to see Leon Jellicoe. She did not wish to see him fleeing.