They had turned down a tree-screened side road, descending again towards the harbour.  Nellie stopped short at an iron gate, set in a hedge of some kind.  A tree spanned the gateway with its branches, making the gloomy night still darker.  The click of the latch roused her companion.

“Do you think it’s any good living?” he asked her.

She did not answer for a moment or two, pausing in the gateway.  A break in the western sky showed a grey cloud faintly tinged with silver.  She looked fixedly up at it and Ned, his eyes becoming accustomed to the gloom, thought he saw her face working convulsively.  But before he could speak again, she turned round sharply and answered, without a tremor in her voice: 

“I suppose that’s a question everybody must answer for themselves.”

“Well, do you?”

“For myself, yes.”

“For others, too?”

“For most others, no.”  The intense bitterness of her tone stamped her words into his brain.

“Then why for you any more than anybody else?”

“I’ll tell you after.  We must go in.  Be careful!  You’d better give me your hand!”

She led the way along a short paved path, down three or four stone steps, then turned sharply along a small narrow verandah.  At the end of the verandah was a door.  Nellie felt in the darkness for the bell-button and gave two sharp rings.

“Where are you taking me, Nellie?” he asked.  “This is too swell a place for me.  It looks as though everybody was gone to bed.”

In truth he was beginning to think of secret societies and mysterious midnight meetings.  Only Nellie had not mentioned anything of the kind and he felt ashamed of acknowledging his suspicions by enquiring, in case it should turn out to be otherwise.  Besides, what did it matter?  There was no secret society which he was not ready to join if Nellie was in it, for Nellie knew more about such things than he did.  It was exactly the place for meetings, he thought, looking round.  Nobody would have dreamt that it was only half an hour ago that they two had left Paddy’s Market.  Here was the scent of damp earth and green trees and heavily perfumed flowers; the rustling of leaves; the fresh breath of the salt ocean.  In the darkness, he could see only a semi-circling mass of foliage under the sombre sky, no other houses nor sign of such.  He could not even hear the rumbling of the Sydney streets nor the hoarse whispering of the crowded city; not even a single footfall on the road they had come down.  For the faint lap-lap-lapping of water filled the pauses, when the puffy breeze failed to play on its leafy pipes.  Here a Mazzini might hide himself and here the malcontents of Sydney might gather in safety to plot and plan for the overthrow of a hateful and hated “law and order.”  So he thought.

“Oh, they’re not gone to bed,” replied Nellie, confidently.  “They live at the back.  It overlooks the harbour that side.  And you’ll soon see they’re not as swell as they look.  They’re splendid people.  Don’t be afraid to say just what you think.”