From Murrawang to Broonah was only a short journey. A horseman could travel across in little more than half an hour. But Ellis Rhea did not go straight back. Seeking a sheltered spot, he threw himself down in the shade, and endeavored to review the situation. He would have to get away from Broonah, that much was clear. The atmosphere was already unhealthy, and it would not improve with the knowledge that he had no claim to Murrawang. He would be ridiculed, tacitly if not openly, by Julius Cobblestone, and he could expect no sympathy from Rory and Stella, or their mother. If he judged them aright, they would rejoice at his humiliation. The old homestead, which had known so much of his tragic history, looked cold and repelling now. He was an unwelcome guest, an impostor--if they could see the hidden pages of his life as he saw them himself. He realised that they at last must be turned up for all to see--and then his remaining friends would desert him. They would spurn him: He decided not to let them know of his failure. He had possibly a few days' grace before the truth would leak out.
What course to pursue next was the problem that troubled him. The future looked gloomy enough. He had no money, and no prospects. The blackened name did not worry him, except in so far as it shut him out from good positions he might otherwise have got into. If nothing else availed, he would truly have to "fade away." There was a possibility that his soldier cousin would succumb to his injuries, or he might return to duty and get killed in action, or he might get blown up by a submarine, or get wrecked again. Travelling was a thousand times more risky now than it was before the war. Until Egbert returned to Australia there was still a gleam of hope on that horizon. But there was an alternative obstacle. Was that insurmountable?
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