The tears slipped sideways from Meggie’s eyesinto her hair; she lay on her back wishing for death, or else for herold life on Drogheda.Was that what Father Ralph had meant years ago, when he hadtold her of the hidden passageway to do with having children? Anice way to find out what he meant. No wonder he had preferrednot to explain it more clearly himself. Yet Luke had liked theactivity well enough to do it three times in quick succession. Obviouslyit didn’t hurt him. And for that she found herself hating him,hating it.Exhausted, so sore moving was agony, Meggie inched herselfover onto her side with her back to Luke, and wept into the pillow.Sleep eluded her, though Luke slept so soundly her small timidmovements never caused so much as a change in the pattern of hisbreathing. 

   He was an economical sleeper and a quiet one, he neithersnored nor flopped about, and she thought while waiting for thelate dawn that if it had just been a matter of lying down together, she might have found him nice to be with.And the dawn came as quickly and joylessly as darkness had; itseemed strange not to hear roosters crowing, the other sounds ofa rousing Drogheda with its sheep and horses and pigs and dogs.Luke woke, and rolled over, she felt him kiss her on the shoulderand was so tired, so homesick that she forgot modesty, didn’t careabout covering herself. 

   “Come on, Meghann, let’s have a look at you,” he commanded,his hand on her hip.      “Turn over, like a good little girl.”Nothing mattered this morning; Meggie turned over, wincing,and lay looking up at him dully. “I don’t like Meghann,” she said,the only form of protest she could manage. 

   “I do wish you’d callme Meggie.” 

   “I don’t like Meggie. But if you really dislike Meghann so much,I’ll call you Meg.” His gaze roved her body dreamily. 

   “What a niceshape you’ve got.” 

   Meggiehad grown up with men who never removed a layer of their clothesin the presence of women, but open-necked shirts showed hairychests in hot weather. They were all fair men, and not offensive toher; this dark man was alien, repulsive. Ralph had a head of hairjust as dark, but well she remembered that smooth, hairless brownchest. 

   “Do as you’re told, Meg! Kiss me.”Leaning over, she kissed him; he cupped her breasts in his palms and made her go on kissing him, took one of her handsand pushed it down to his groin. Startled, she took her unwillingmouth away from his to look at what lay under her hand, changingand growing. 

   “Oh, please, Luke, not again!” she cried. 

   “Please, not again!Please, please!”The blue eyes scanned her speculatively. 

   “Hurts that much? Allright, we’ll do something different, but for God’s sake try to beenthusiastic!”Pulling her on top of him, he pushed her legs, apart, lifted hershoulders and attached himself to her breast, as he had done in thecar the night she committed herself to marrying him. There onlyin body, Meggie endured it; at least he didn’t put himself insideher, so it didn’t hurt any more than simply moving did. Whatstrange creatures men were, to go at this as if it was the mostpleasurable thing in the world. It was disgusting, a mockery of love.Had it not been for her hope that it would culminate in a baby,Meggie would have refused flatly to have anything more to do withit. 

   “I’ve got you a job,” Luke said over breakfast in the hotel diningroom. 

   “What? Before I’ve had a chance to make our home nice, Luke?Before we’ve even got a home?” 

   “There’s no point in our renting a house, Meg. I’m going to cutcane; it’s all arranged. The best gang of cutters in Queensland is agang of Swedes, Poles and Irish led by a bloke called Arne Swenson,and while you were sleeping off the journey I went to see him. He’sa man short and he’s willing to give me a trial. That means I’ll beliving in barracks with them. We cut six days a week, sunrise tosunset. Not only that, but we move around up and down the coast,wherever the next job takes us. How much I earn depends on howmuch sugar I cut, and if I’m good enough to cut with Arne’s gangI’ll be pulling in more than twenty quid a week. Twenty quid aweek! Can you imagine that?” 

   “Are you trying to tell me we won’t be living togther, Luke?” 

   “We can’t, Meg! The men won’t have a woman in the barracks,and what’s the use of your living alone in a house? You may aswell work, too; it’s all money toward our station.” 

   “But where will I live? What sort of work can I do? There’s nostock to drove up here.” 

   “No, more’s the pity. That’s why I’ve got you a live-in job, Meg.You’ll get free board, I won’t have the expense of keeping you.You’re going to work as a housemaid on Himmelhoch, LudwigMueller’s place. He’s the biggest cane cocky in the district and hiswife’s an invalid, can’t manage the house on her own. I’ll take youthere tomorrow morning.” 

   “But when will I see you, Luke?” 

   “On Sundays. Luddie understands you’re married; he doesn’tmind if you disappear on Sundays.” 

   “Well! You’ve certainly arranged things to your satisfaction,haven’t you?” 

   “I reckon. Oh, Meg, we’re going to be rich! We’ll work hard andsave every penny, and it won’t be long before we can buy ourselvesthe best station in Western Queensland. There’s the fourteenthousand I’ve got in the Gilly bank, the two thousand a year morecoming in there, and the thirteen hundred or more a year we canearn between us. It won’t be long, love, I promise. Grin and bearit for me, eh? Why be content with a rented house when the harderwe work now means the sooner you’ll be looking around your ownkitchen?” 

   “If it’s what you want.” She looked down at her purse. 

   “Luke,did you take my hundred pounds?”“I put it in the bank. You can’t carry money like that around,Meg.”“But you took every bit of it! I don’t have a penny! What aboutspending money?” 

   “Why on earth do you want spending money? You’ll be out atHimmelhoch in the morning, and you can’t spend anything there. I’ll take care of the hotel bill. It’s time yourealized you’ve married a workingman, Meg, that you’re not thepampered squatter’s daughter with money to burn. Mueller willpay your wages straight into my bank account, where they’ll stayalong with mine. I’m not spending the money on myself, Meg, youknow that. Neither of us is going to touch it, because it’s for ourfuture, our station.” 

   “Yes, I understand. You’re very sensible, Luke. But what if Ishould have a baby?”For a moment he was tempted to tell her the truth, that therewould be no baby until the station was a reality, but something inher face made him decide not to. 

   “Well, let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, eh? I’d ratherwe didn’t have one until we’ve got our station, so let’s just hopewe don’t.”No home, no money, no babies. No husband, for that matter.Meggie started to laugh. Luke joined her, his teacup lifted in a toast. 

   “Here’s to French letters,” he said.In the morning they went out to Himmelhoch on the local bus,an old Ford with no glass in its windows and room for twelvepeople. Meggie was feeling better, for Luke had left her alone whenshe offered him a breast, and seemed to like it quite as well as thatother awful thing. Much and all as she wanted babies, her couragehad failed her. The first Sunday that she wasn’t sore at all, she toldherself, she would be willing to try again. Perhaps there was a babyalready on the way, and she needn’t bother with it ever again unlessshe wanted more. Eyes brighter, she looked around her with interestas the bus chugged out along the red dirt road.It was breath-taking country, so different from Gilly; she had toadmit there was a grandeur and beauty here Gilly quite lacked.Easy to see there was never a shortage of water. The soil was thecolor of freshly spilled blood, brilliant scarlet, and the cane in thefields not  fallow was a perfect contrast to the soil: long bright-green bladeswaving fifteen or twenty feet above claret-colored stalks as thick asLuke’s arm. 

   Nowhere in the world, raved Luke, did cane grow astall or as rich in sugar; its yield was the highest known. That brightredsoil was over a hundred feet deep, and so stuffed with exactlythe right nutrients the cane couldn’t help but be perfect, especiallyconsidering the rainfall. And nowhere else in the world was it cutby white men, at the white man’s driving, money-hungry pace. 

   “You look good on a soapbox, Luke,” said Meggie ironically.He glanced sideways at her, suspiciously, but refrained fromcomment because the bus had stopped on the side of the road tolet them off.Himmelhoch was a large white house on top of a hill, surroundedby coconut palms, banana palms and beautiful smaller palms whoseleaves splayed outward in great fans like the tails of peacocks. Agrove of bamboo forty feet high cut the house off from the worstof the northwest monsoonal winds; even with its hill elevation itwas still mounted on top of fifteen-foot piles.Luke carried her case; Meggie toiled up the red road beside him,gasping, still in correct shoes and stockings, her hat wilting aroundher face. The cane baron himself wasn’t in, but his wife came ontothe veranda as they mounted the steps, balancing herself betweentwo sticks. She was smiling; looking at her dear kind face, Meggiefelt better at once. 

   “Come in, come in!” she said in a strong Australian accent.Expecting a German voice, Meggie was immeasurably cheered.Luke put her case down, shook hands when the lady took her rightone off its stick, then pounded away down the steps in a hurry tocatch the bus on its return journey. Arne Swenson was picking himup outside the pub at ten o’clock. 

   “What’s your first name, Mrs. O’Neill?”

   “Meggie.” 

   “Oh, that’s nice. Mine is Anne, and I’d rather you called meAnne. It’s been so lonely up here since my girl left me a monthago, but it’s not easy to get good house help, so I’ve been battlingon my own. There’s only Luddie and me to look after; we have nochildren. I hope you’re going to like living with us, Meggie.” 

   “I’m sure I will, Mrs. Mueller—Anne.” 

   “Let me show you to your room. Can you manage the case? I’mnot much good at carrying things, I’m afraid.”The room was austerely furnished, like the rest of the house, butit looked out on the only side of the house where the view wasunimpeded by some sort of wind-break, and shared the same stretchof veranda as the living room, which seemed very bare to Meggiewith its cane furniture and lack of fabric. 

   “It’s just too hot up here for velvet or chintz,” Anne explained. 

   “We live with wicker, and as little on ourselves as decency allows.I’ll have to educate you, or you’ll die. You’re hopelessly overclothed.”She herself was in a sleeveless, low-necked vest and a pair ofshort shorts, out of which her poor twisted legs poked doddering