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had done their washing in this, for some faded daubs of laundry blue still remained. Well, shrugged Georgina, she had bathed in a basin before.
    One thing that did please her was the size of the table. She could spread out Stepfather’s papers at one end, yet still find room to eat or read at the other end. Mr Roper had been fair at least when he mentioned the advantages for a student. He had said he allowed free time, and undoubtedly he had supplied a table that really invited industriousness. Georgina took all her papers out of her bag first and left the other items for later.
    Before her stepfather died, he and Georgina had spoken eagerly about presenting his data in a more acceptable form to the layman as a change from the usual learned and heavy discourses; Stepfather was to provide Georgina with the facts and Georgina to write them in a more animated style than was currently adopted, a style to catch the people who take up a book in interest then have to put it down to complete some task. The first chapters had turned out well and received Stepfather’s approval. If only she could keep it up...
    She stacked the work neatly—bachelors were noted to be neat, even pernickety, she reminded herself. Perhaps I m not a bachelor, perhaps I’m married, even a young father, she thought frantically, after all, the only stipulation was that she should be male.
    Next she inspected the supplies from the station. There were potatoes, onions, flour, sugar, tea, coffee, and a selection of tinned goods. The small kerosene fridge would be a boon in this weather, she appreciated, and as she didn't fancy lighting up a range every day, because that would mean collecting, then chopping wood, plus a hot room afterwards, she was glad there was a kerosene variety of stove as well.
    The fridge when she opened it held a wedge of corned brisket and a supply of beer; men’s viands. But when, later, she opened Bill’s tucker to put away any perishables, she found both cordial and sherry, so everything balanced out nicely.
    To celebrate the moment, the first moment, she opened the sherry.
    She sat on the doorstep of the hut and sipped slowly. Stepfather always had said that no one had seen a sunset until they had seen one here in the interior; it was getting towards dusk now, so Georgina watched. At Windmill Junction life had been slow, taking no count of hours, especially at the darkling hour, but here there seemed a complete standstill as though time itself had ceased to exist Even the heat haze that always danced on these horizons had settled now to a still blue smoke.
    Then it happened—all the colour in the world bursting out at the same wonderful moment, brilliant red, deep violet, flaunting pink and splendid gold. She wanted to jump up and embrace it all, to call out her delight, to cheer. Then she remembered in time that men don’t do things like that. Yet they appreciated beauty, for her stepfather had, and Larry Roper, Craig had said, ‘blindly’ loved this place. Perhaps that was what made Roper so difficult; his love was all used up, nothing left over. Well, she’d leave all that for another day, the day after she left here to be exact. Until then she would simply enjoy herself and not think about men and what made them tick, even though she was supposed to be one herself.
    She had every intention of being fair to the employer who would never employ her, though, for she intended to do as much exploring as she could and to leave a full report when she went. At least he had got her here, so he deserved that much. Suddenly feeling the stress of travelling for three days, Georgina got up, made herself a sketchy meal from one of the tins and then went to bed.
    The bed was comfortable but hard, the land she believed men preferred, so she must prefer it too. Did Craig sleep at the Brydens’ when he was up here? A nice man, Craig, she thought drowsily. A shame about the girl Elva whom the mighty Roper had removed so that Craig, or any