I cannot say that she was agreeable to the project but she was resigned.

I had seen a little more of Felicity and Miss Cartwright since I first met them, and I felt I knew Miss Cartwright well. She was one of those forthright, self-righteous women—of whom there are so many about that they have become stock characters. I even used to guess what she was going to say before she said it.

It was different with Felicity. On the surface she seemed meek, rather insipid. But I was not sure that this was truly so. I felt she was hiding secrets. I wondered what.

I thought of what I should do when I reached Sydney. I supposed I should have to accompany them out to this place which they referred to as "a property" and which I learned was in New South Wales, some miles out of Sydney. Then I supposed I should be expected to stay there for a while until Miss Cartwright was ready to return. But what should I find out there? It was hardly likely that Felicity's prospective bridegroom would have known Philip. That would be asking too much of coincidence.

Still, I was on my way, and I had an unshakable belief that something would come to guide me. I was still thinking of Ann Alice and I had the strange feeling that she was watching, helping me along the way she wanted me to go.

Granny came to Tilbury to see us off, in the company of Raymond and Jan. It was gratifying to see the way in which Jan put his arm round Granny as though to comfort her. Her mouth was tight with disapproval and suppressed emotion. But in my heart I knew she understood and that had she been my age and the opportunity had arisen, she would have acted just as I was doing.

I don't think for a moment she believed I was going to solve the mystery, but she did realize that I had to do something. I could not remain inactive. I had to try and if I failed I would come back and if I could not exactly put it all out of my mind I could at least convince myself that I could do no more and must accept what was.

I was rather glad when the last farewells had been said. Such moments are always rather agonizing. One is aware of the emotional atmosphere all around one—parents, sons, daughters, lovers... parting. One senses the apprehension of those who were leaving home to go into the unknown—even though they had chosen to do so.

Raymond held my hands tightly and said: "When you come back..."

"Yes," I repeated, "when I come back."

"It won't be long."

"Perhaps not."

"I shall be here to meet you."

"Yes... please do. And thank you, Raymond. Thank you for all you have done for me."

I clung to him for a moment. Then I kissed Granny and Jan once more and without turning back went on board.

What a noise! What a bustle everywhere! People seemed to be running about in confusion. Orders were shouted; sirens blew.

Felicity and Miss Cartwright shared a cabin. Mine was next to theirs and I shared with a young Australian girl who was travelling with her parents.

I looked round the small space which was to be my home for the next weeks and wondered how I should manage. There were two bunks, a dressing table with a few drawers and a cupboard. I had not been there long when my travelling companion arrived.

She was a big girl of about my age—sun-tanned with thick wiry fair hair and a breezy manner.

She said: "Hello. So we're stable mates, are we? Bit of a tight squeeze, but we'll have to make the best of it, won't we? Would you mind if I have the top bunk? I don't like the idea of people climbing over me."

I said I did not mind in the least.

"I hope you haven't much gear," she said. "Space a bit limited, isn't it? My name is Maisie Winchell. Pa and Ma are a few cabins along. We're in wool. What are you going out for? Let me guess. Going out to get married, are you? Some Aussie came over looking for a wife and found you."

"Quite wrong," I told her. "Though I am travelling with a friend who is going out for that purpose, and my name is Annalice Mallory."

"Oh, I say! I like that. Annalice, eh? Call me Maisie. Everyone does. And you'll have to learn to be free and easy out there."

"I am ready to be, Maisie," I said.

She nodded with approval and we divided up the cupboard and the drawer space.

After that I went to the cabin next door to see how Felicity and Miss Cartwright were faring.

Miss Cartwright was complaining about the lack of space and Felicity said it was a good thing that her trunks, full of the things she was taking with her, were in the hold.

We went into the dining room together.

There were few people there. The Captain was not present, naturally, for I supposed he was on the bridge taking the ship out of the harbour. We were too excited to eat though the soup was good and appetizing.

I noticed a man seated close to us who appeared to be watching us intently. He was very striking-looking because of his height. He must have been well over six feet tall and correspondingly broad. There was a boldness about him which I rather resented because he did seem to be particularly interested in our party. He was very fair and his hair had a bleached look as though he spent a great deal of time in the open air. He had deep blue eyes which looked startling in his sun-tanned face. When I caught his eyes—which I could not help doing because every time I looked up he appeared to be staring at me—he smiled.

I lowered my gaze and looked away.

Miss Cartwright said the soup was not hot enough and she hoped the food was going to be edible. She had heard that shipboard fare was very poor.

Felicity said little. She looked pale. No doubt her preparations had been particularly strenuous and she was taking a big step in leaving her home for a man whom she had only known a month before she decided to marry him.

When we left the dining room the big man was still sitting there. We had to pass close to him.

He said: "Good evening."

There was nothing to do but respond so I said: "Good evening."

"I think we are in for a rough night," he added.

I nodded and went on quickly.

Miss Cartwright said: "What impertinence! To speak to us like that! And to say it was going to be a rough night! He seemed quite pleased about it."

"Perhaps he was just trying to be friendly," I said.

"I daresay we shall be introduced by the Captain or officers to those people we ought to know."

"I doubt it will be as formal as that," I replied. "We shall have to wait and see."

I bade good night to them, saying I would go to my cabin and unpack.

This I did. Maisie came in while I was thus engaged.

She confirmed the stranger's view that the sea was going to be rough. "Wait till we get in the Bay." She grinned.

"You're a seasoned traveller, I imagine."

"Pa comes over every two years or so. We're in wool, as I said. Property north of Melbourne. Ma comes with him and I don't let them leave me behind. I like to have a squint at the Old Country."

"Do you enjoy that?"

"Oh yes. Nice to get back home though ... to feel free and easy."

"You find us rather formal?"

She just looked at me and laughed. "Well, what do you think?" Then she started to tell me about the property near Melbourne.

I said: "I must introduce you to Miss Derring. I am travelling with her and her aunt and she is going out to marry a man who has one of these properties not far from Sydney."

"Oh, New South Wales. We're Victoria, you know."

I laughed with her. "Quite clearly," I said, "there is no place like home."

I thought I should get on with her very well.

They were right about the rough night. I awoke to find myself almost pitched out of my bunk.

"It's nothing yet," said Maisie from above, almost gleefully. "It's a pity it couldn't have waited awhile. Just to let first-timers get their sea legs."

"Oh, they come in time, do they ... sea legs?"

"To some they do. To others never. You're either a good sailor or you're not. I hope you are going to be a good one. Try to forget about it. That's the secret. Fresh air too... that's a help. I'm tired. Good night. We won't need rocking tonight."

I lay awake for a little while listening to the creaking of the wood and the whistling of the wind as the waves pounded against the sides of the ship. Maisie was right. Finally the rocking sent me to sleep.

The next morning, when I awoke, it was to find that the wind had not abated. It was difficult to stand up in the cabin but I managed to stagger along to the bathroom and dress. I felt quite well but these operations took some time because of the movement of the ship.

Maisie said from the top bunk: "I'll get up when you've gone. We'll make that arrangement. There's not room for two to dress at the same time. Do you feel like breakfast?"

"Just a cup of coffee and bread and butter perhaps."

"That's good. Then I'd get some fresh air if I were you. If you can take food, that's the best thing. Food and fresh air."

I went to the next cabin to see how Felicity and Miss Cartwright were.

They were both feeling ill and wanted nothing more than to be left alone. So I went to the dining room. There was hardly anyone there. I had coffee and bread and butter and, taking Maisie's advice, went on deck.

The waves were washing over it and I could scarcely stand. I found a dry spot under the lifeboats, and, wrapping myself in a rug which I found in a locker, I sat down and contemplated the raging sea.

I thought of arriving in Sydney. A wild-goose chase. I could hear Granny's voice. Was that what it was going to be.

Someone was staggering along the deck. I saw at once that it was the big man I had seen in the dining room and I felt faintly irritated but a little intrigued. It would not have surprised me if I discovered he had followed me up here. He took a seat beside me.

"Why, hello," he said. "You're a bold young lady, braving the elements."

"I am told it is the best thing."

"If you have the nerve for it. Ninety per cent of our passengers are groaning in their bunks. Do you know that?"

"I didn't and I am not sure that the percentage is accurate."

"How many did you see in the dining room? How many are here? Fortunately only two which is far more interesting than a crowd."

"Do you think so?"

"I do, indeed. But I am lacking in courtesy. I should, of course, have asked permission to sit down with you."

"Isn't it a little late to do so now?"

"It is a fait accompli, as they say. Where else is there to sit? It is the only dry spot... here under the lifeboats. Permission granted?"

"What would you do if it were denied?"

"I should sit here just the same."

"Then to ask is rather superfluous, isn't it?"

"I can see you are a very logical young lady. Let me introduce myself. I am Milton Harrington. A noble name you think. Milton. Thou shouldst be living at this hour...' and all that. I'll tell you how it came about. My mother was a very beautiful lady—as you may well imagine from my inherited charms—and before I arrived in the world I gave her a wretched time. She was unable to indulge in her social activities which were the meaning of life to her. Paradise Lost, you see. And as soon as I—the most delightful cherub you could ever imagine—was laid in her arms, she cried: 'Paradise Regained.' So after that I just had to be Milton."

I was laughing. I had forgotten the uneasiness the wild weather had created in me. I had forgotten my seemingly hopeless mission. I was just amused. He was so sure of himself, so persistent in his determination to drum up an acquaintance.

"Now," he said, "it is your turn."

"Annalice Mallory," I said. "Ann Alice were two names which were used a great deal in our family for generations. Well, my grandmother, who had the task of naming me, decided to ring the changes, join them together and she came up with Annalice."

"Annalice," he said. "I like it. It's unusual. It suits you."

"Thank you for the compliment ... if it is a compliment. Unusual, I suppose, could mean unusually unpleasant."

"In this case it means quite the reverse."

"Then I will renew my thanks. How long will this weather last? Do you travel often?"

"One can never be sure about the weather. It could be a rough passage or a smooth one. It's in the lap of the gods. The answer to your second question is Yes. I do the journey frequently. I go home on average once a year."