“Sadie’s a very good sort,” Charnock resumed.  “She knows what we are, and doesn’t expect too much; not the kind of girl to make ridiculous demands.  In fact, Sadie can make allowances.”

Festing thought this was doubtful praise, although it bore out his opinion of the girl.  For all that, Sadie might not be so willing to make allowances for her husband as for a lover of whom she was not quite sure.

“Perhaps that kind of thing has advantages,” he said.  “But I don’t know—­”

“I do know,” said Charnock; “I’ve tried the other way.  The feeling that you’re expected to keep on a high plane soon gets tiresome; besides, it isn’t natural.  It’s better to be taken for what you are.”

“I suppose so,” Festing assented.  “Anyway, if Sadie’s satisfied——­”

Charnock grinned, although there was a touch of color in his face.

“You’re not given to flattery, but might use a little tact.  I’ve had a knock and am not quite sober, so I can’t argue the point.  Then it isn’t your business if Sadie’s satisfied or not.”

“That’s so.  But what are you going to do when your creditors turn you out?”

“Everything’s arranged.  I’m going to help Keller at the hotel and store.”

Festing got up.  “Well, I’ve stopped longer than I meant.  I wish you good luck!”

“We’ll have a drink,” said Charnock, reaching for the bottle with an unsteady hand.  Then he paused and gave Festing a suspicious look.  “It’s curious about that portrait!  I used to see you gazing at it, and don’t remember that I picked it up.”

“No, thanks,” said Festing, refusing the glass.  “I think you’ve had enough.  In fact, it might have been better when you were wiping the slate clean if you had put the bottle in the stove.”

He went out and walked back to the camp in the moonlight, thinking hard.  He was angry with Charnock, but vaguely sorry.  Bob had some virtues and was throwing himself away, although, when one came to think of it, this was only true to some extent.  What one meant was that he was throwing away his opportunities of rising to a higher plane; while Bob was satisfied with his present level Sadie was good enough for him, perhaps too good.  Life together might be hard for both, and there was a touch of pathos in his burning all the tender tokens that bound him to the past, though it was ominous that he kept the whisky.  He could, however, get as much liquor as he wanted at the hotel; that is, if Sadie allowed it, but there was some comfort in the thought that the girl was clever and firm.

Festing dismissed the matter, and when he reached his shack at the bridge put the portrait on the table and sat down opposite.  He felt that he knew this girl, whom he had never met, very well.  Something in her look had cheered him when he had difficulties to overcome; he felt that they were friends.  She was calm and fearless and would face trouble with the level glance he knew, although now and then, when the lamp flickered in the draught, he had thought she smiled.  They had been companions on evenings when Charnock wanted to read the newspaper or the talk had flagged.  Sometimes the window and door were open and the smell of parched grass came in; sometimes the stove was red-hot and the house shook in the icy blast.  Festing admitted that it was not altogether for Charnock’s society he had visited the homestead.