"I was disappointed when I saw you had no pretensions to prettiness, as
there's not a girl up these parts worth wasting a man's affections on,
and I was building great hopes on you. But I'm a great admirer of
beauty," he twaddled.

"I am very sorry for you, Mr Hawden. I'm sure it would take quite a
paragon to be worthy of such affection as I'm sure yours would be," I
replied sympathetically.

"Never mind. Don't worry about it. You're not a bad sort, and
think a fellow could have great fun with you."

"I'm sure, Mr Hawden, you do me too much honour. It quite exhilarates me
to think that I meet with your approval in the smallest degree," I
replied with the utmost deference. "You are so gentlemanly and nice that
I was alarmed at first lest you might despise me altogether."

"No fear. You needn't he afraid of me; I'm not a bad sort of fellow," he
replied with the greatest encouragement.

By his accent and innocent style I detected he was not a colonial, so I
got him to relate his history. He was an Englishman by birth, but had
been to America, Spain, New Zealand, Tasmania, etc.; by his own make out
had ever been a man of note, and had played Old Harry everywhere.

I allowed him to gabble away full tilt for an hour on this subject,
unconscious that I had taken the measure of him, and was grinning broadly
to myself. Then I diverted him by inquiring how long since the wire fence
on our right had been put up. It bore evidence of recent erection, and
had replaced an old cockatoo fence which I remembered in my childhood.