) "I THINK I could," she repeated. "But before you go on, dear,
I should like to ask YOU something."
She laid down her needlework; her heart was going pit-a-pat. "Richard,
did you ever.. . I mean have you never thought of. .. of taking up your
profession again--I mean here--starting practice here?--No, wait a
minute! Let me finish. I . . . I . . . oh, Richard!" Unable to find
words, Polly locked her fingers under the tablecloth and hoped she was
not going to be so silly as to cry. Getting up, she knelt down before
her husband, laying her hands on his knees. "Oh, Richard, I wish you
would--HOW I wish you would!"
"Why, Polly!" said Mahony, surprised at her agitation. "Why, my dear,
what's all this?--You want to know if I never thought of setting up in
practice out here? Of course I did . . . in the beginning. You don't
think I'd have chosen to keep a store, if there'd been any other opening
for me? But there wasn't, child. The place was overrun. Never a medico
came out and found digging too much for him, but he fell back in despair
on his profession. I didn't see my way to join their starvation band."
"Yes, THEN, Richard!--but now?" broke in Polly. "Now, it's quite, quite
different. Look at the size Ballarat has grown--there are more than
forty thousand people settled on it; Mr. Ocock told me so. And you know,
dear, doctors have cleared out lately, not come fresh. There was that
one, I forget his name, who drank himself to death; and the two, you
remember, who were sold up just before Christmas.
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