The Foot of Time: A Novel of Australia and the South Seas: (1933)

96 THE FOOT OF TIME
day of this sort. He had always wanted to see something
of the Islands. He had been resolved to do
so, but lately, with his mother's growing restlessness
and the swift progress he was making, it seemed as
though he might leave Australia for an apprenticeship
in some Clyde shipbuilding yard sooner than
he had ever dreamed. The only chance to visit
those Islands was now. Edith wouldn't mind, because
after all he could not possibly see much of
her during vacation. He couldn't see so much of
her in point of actual fact, as during term, when
they could at least meet at lunch. Edith, too, would
be away from Manly living far away at Orange.
It might be impossible to see her at all. And
now this offer. His mind was already made up,
but he would not tell Pinkerton so just yet. He
must not cheapen himself.
"It's jolly nice of you, Pinko, old bean," he said.
"I'll certainly think it over. As you say, I'm still a
free agent. Must be, I suppose, at twenty. May
not have another opportunity. Well, I'll decide
soon one way or the other and let you know."
"Good egg, Swinton!" Pinkerton said with
warmth. "That's right; take your own time. I
thought you were the sort of chap to have the
guts to entertain the idea. Wouldn't have considered
anyone else."
Clare wasn't too keen upon it, but blamed herself
for trying to molly-coddle her son, and accordingly
told him to please himself about the matter.
She would not stand in his way.
Then, before seeing Edith again, he told Pinker-
THE FOOT OF TIME 97
ton he would be very pleased to put in two months
with him on Tuamonti, the Garden of Eden in the
French group, so well known by the University
undergraduate.
Afterwards Bruce met Edith and told her of his
intention. The girl took it as a matter of course.
She had not expected to see very much of her
lover during the holidays. Circumstances were too
impossibly difficult to arrange many meetings.
Their official engagement was about as far off as
their marriage, if this ever became possible. Young
men of her acquaintance were always going away
together. The girl was sorry he was going so far,
urged him to take care of his dear self. The time
came to wish him good-bye.
Edith had intended to see him off by his vessel,
the Wotangee, but circumstances prevented her.
Then Clare was to have done so, but at the last
moment thought he might dislike looking a baby
before his friend, so bade him God-speed at Vaucluse
instead. As the Wotangee steamed proudly past
her house, outward bound for the Heads, Clare
waved to him from an upper window. Bruce saw
his mother through Pinkerton's strong binoculars,
and, as previously agreed between them, he waved
back. Clare could just distinguish her son through
her glasses, and the worst foreboding she had ever
previously experienced came to her as the huge
vessel rounded East for the open sea. The woman's
depression eclipsed even the intuitive fear—for she
knew not what—which she had felt in Darjeeling,
now twenty years ago. A violent shudder shook