of a hotel near by. A couple of larrikin acquaintances were standing
there, shrivelled young men in high-heeled pointed-toed shoes, belled
trousers, gaudy neckties and round soft hats tipped over the left ear.

"Hello, you blokes!" cried the larrikiness, slapping one on the shoulder.
"Isn't this a blank of a time you're having?"

It was her ideal of pleasure, hers and theirs, to parade the street or
stand in it, to gape or be gaped at.



CHAPTER V.


WERE THEY CONSPIRATORS?

Neither Ned nor Nellie spoke as they journeyed down George street in the
rumbling 'bus. "I've got tickets," was all she said as they entered the
ferry shed at the Circular Quay. They climbed to the upper deck of the
ferry boat in silence. He got up when she did and went ashore by her side
without a word. He did not notice the glittering lights that encircled
the murky night. He did not even know if it were wet or fine, or whether
the moon shone or not. He was in a daze. The horrors of living stunned
him. The miseries of poor Humanity choked him. The foul air of these
noisome streets sickened him. The wretched faces he had seen haunted him.
The oaths of the gutter children and the wailing of the blind beggar-girl
seemed to mingle in a shriek that shook his very soul.

If he could have persuaded himself that the bush had none of this, it