That was Moya's last word.

It is therefore a pity that it was not strictly true.

It was a wonderful ride they had together, that ride between the police-barracks and the station, and from drowsy afternoon into cool sweet night. The crickets chirped their welcome on the very boundary, and the same stars came out that Moya had seen swept away in the morning, one by one again. Then the moon came up with a bound, but hung a little as though caught in some pine-trees on the horizon, that seemed scratched upon its disc. And Moya remarked that they were very near home, with such a wealth of tenderness in the supreme word that a mist came over Rigden's eyes.

"Thank G.o.d," said he, "that I have lived to hear you call it so, even if it never is to be."

"But it is--it is. Our own dear home!"

"We shall see."

"What do you mean, darling?"

"I am going to tell Theodore the whole thing."

"After I've taken such pains to make it certain that none of them need ever know a word?"

"Yes; he shall know; he can do what he thinks fit about letting it go any further."

Moya was silent for a little.

"You're right," she said at last. "I know Theodore. He'll never breathe it; but he'll think all the more of you, dearest."

"I owe it to him. I owe it to you all, and to myself. I am not naturally a fraud, Moya."

"On the other hand, it was very natural not to speak of such a thing."

"But it was wrong. I knew it at the time. Only I _could_ not risk----"

Moya touched his lips with her switch.

"Hush, sir! That's the one part I shall never--quite--forgive."

"But you have taught me a lesson. I shall never keep another thing back from you in all my life!"

"And I will never be horrid to you again, darling! But of course there will be exceptions to both rules; to yours because there are some things which wouldn't be my business (but this wasn't one of them); to mine, because--well--we none of us have the tempers of angels."

"But you have been my good angel already--and more--so much more!"

They came to the home-paddock gate. The moon was high above the pines.

Underneath there were the lesser lights, the earthly lights, but all else was celestial peace.

"I hope they're not looking for me still," said Moya.

"If they are I must go and look for them."

"I won't let you. It's too sweet--the pines--the moonlight--everything."

They rode up to the homestead, with each roof beaming to the moon.

"Not much of a place for the belle of Toorak," sighed Rigden.

"Perhaps not. But, of all places, the place for me!"

"You're as keen as Ives," laughed Rigden as he helped her to dismount.

"And I was so afraid the place would choke you off!"