Part 56 (1/2)
Marcella laughed again, and knew who he was.
”If it hadn't been for those fires I should never have got here. But, perhaps you can tell me where Mrs. Farne lives? They all seemed to know her at Klond.y.k.e.”
Marcella pointed towards the glowing gorse.
”That's where I live. I'm Marcella Farne,” she said. ”But why didn't you say you were coming? Mr. Twist would have fetched you in his buggy. He loves meeting people at Cook's Wall because he tries to convince them that it's a real road he's driving them along. And it isn't, you know.”
He sat down on the edge of the verandah, looking distastefully at the mare, who shook her head impatiently. Marcella gave her water and let her wander, when she had taken off her saddle and bridle.
”Suppose you hadn't been able to ride. I didn't think Professors had time for that sort of thing.”
”Neither did I till a few hours ago,” he said, with a short laugh, taking out a cigarette-case and offering it to her. She sat down rather trustfully on a verandah rail Louis had carpentered. Andrew stared at them both and made off silently towards the noise. ”But how did you know who I was?”
”I only know one other man in the world, you see, and he's an old doctor in Scotland.”
He was watching her as she spoke.
”I see,” he said. ”And you think you know me?”
”Yes. I know you like I know St. Paul and Siegfried and Parsifal--people living in my mind all the time. I've talked to you for hours, you know--hours and hours--”
”It was very good of you to ask me to come. But--embarra.s.sing, you know!
I simply had to come, out of curiosity. To find someone reading one's lectures right in the heart of the Bus.h.!.+--”
”I thought you would come,” she said, staring at him gravely, ”when Dr.
Angus told me what you said about the socialization of knowledge. But I can hardly believe it's you, even now. Yet somehow you look as if you could think those last lectures of yours. Before I read those you seemed tremendously clever and--and rousing. To speak biologically--”
”Oh, please!” he said, smiling. ”They've been doing that in Sydney--out of encyclopedias--!”
”I was going to say that your thoughts always fertilize my brain. But you must be hungry, so I'll not tell you what I want to about the lectures yet.”
She slipped off the verandah rail and went indoors, leaving the Professor rather amazed. He was not quite sure whether to think she was a serious and dull young person, absolutely sincere and very much a hero-wors.h.i.+pper, or one of the lionizing type he had met in the city. He was deciding that she was too young for the latter role when she called him inside the candle-lit room.
”I hope you drink tea. We drink quarts of it here.”
He nodded rea.s.suringly.
”There's some beer, too, but the shepherds and old Mike from Klond.y.k.e will have to drink that. It was put into a kerosene tin that hadn't been boiled and it smells terrible. But they won't notice.”
”They'll probably be dead,” he remarked.
”Mike drinks methylated spirit and the shepherds have a bottle of squareface each on Sunday afternoons when Betty and Andrew and I look after the sheep. Nothing hurts us. We're hard people out here.”
”What made you write to me like that?” he asked, still puzzled. ”I still have no idea--”
”I wanted to see you, for one thing. But that's only a small thing. I can't tell you now. I'm the cook to-day, you see, and they'll be wanting their supper in a little while. I must go and find somewhere for you to sleep, too. How long can you stay?”
”I'm not sure,” he said guardedly. ”I don't want to embarra.s.s you, however much you embarra.s.s me.”
”I'd like you to stay for months,” she said simply. ”I--we're very lonely.”