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

CHAPTER V.
THE CAUSE OF THE DECREE.
"EXCEPT as a purely artificial convention to cope
with the even greater artificiality of civilisation, I
have never believed in marriage, Clare."
"Then why did you marry me?"
"Because I loved you—loved you with all my
soul, as I always shall."
"You never presumed to inflict any of your
hideous views upon me—you never dared to suggest
the other alternative."
"I'm not quite a fool, Clare. Of course I knew
it would be no good."
"Had I been a rank Bohemian, free thinker, unconventional
autocrat like you"—Clare spoke with
great bitterness—"would you in that case have
asked me to be your mistress?"
Bruce thought rather seriously before replying,
then, "No," he said at length. "You see, there is
the title. I had hoped " The words stuck in
his throat. "I've been a fool, my dear—"
"Don't call me your dear—your dear, indeed!
Hateful Mormon!"
"My orders have been so strict, Clare, I am so
used to being obeyed in all things that I had reckoned
without the human factor. My private life
would have remained hidden from you indefinitely
THE FOOT OF TIME 3 3
but for the mischance of Putali's child. Ranee must
have left her garden—she works under Mackenzie
on Publoo—and joined the pluckers here."
"But, why?"
"Jealousy, my—jealousy, Clare. She must have
known about Putali. Wanted to spy on her—
damned little vixen!"
"Well, go on."
"I never intended to marry, never wished to
marry, loathed the very idea of the mutual servitude
of marriage. I was fully resolved to retain my
complete freedom. I needed marriage neither in the
one way nor the other. I have my work—it is
everything to me."
"I know," Clare interrupted him, with some
measure of sympathy for his love of work as a life
interest.
"My work appeals to me as an attainment not
altogether covered by sport alone. I have my name,
my position, wealth. Humans, you know, Clare,
humans of both sexes vary in many respects.
A question of glands, the physiologists tell us.
There are men, you know, more feminine than
women, and there are women more masculine than
men, physiologically speaking. One day the scientists
may prolong our span of life through glandular
means to a couple of hundred years or so."
"You're welcome to them," Clare put in scornfully.
"You feel like that now, but—well, to continue,
I lived here and worked. Whenever the mood took
me I could take a run home, indulge myself in