"
In Melbourne they were the guests of John--Mahony had reluctantly
resigned himself to being beholden to Mary's relatives and Mary's
friends to the end of the chapter. At best, living in other people's
houses was for him more of a punishment than a pleasure; but for sheer
discomfort this stay capped the climax. Under Zara's incompetent rule
John's home had degenerated into a lawless and slovenly abode: the meals
were unpalatable, the servants pert and lazy, while the children ran
wild--you could hardly hear yourself speak for the racket. Whenever
possible, Mahony fled the house. He lunched in town, looked up his
handful of acquaintances, bought necessaries--and unnecessaries--for
the voyage. He also hired a boat and had himself rowed out to the ship,
where he clambered on board amid the mess of scouring and painting, and
made himself known to the chief mate. Or he sat on the pier and gazed at
the vessel lying straining at her anchor, while quick rain-squalls swept
up and blotted out the Bay.
Of Mary he caught but passing glimpses; her family seemed determined to
make unblushing use of her as long as she was within reach. A couple of
days prior to their arrival, John and Zara had quarrelled violently; and
for the dozenth time Zara had packed her trunks and departed for one of
those miraculous situations, the doors of which always stood open to
her.
John was for Mary going after her and forcing her to admit the error of
her ways.
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