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Bruce, Mary Grant, 1878-1958

"Back to Billabong"

He examined her
companions' passports, but let her through with an airy "Sure, this
young lady's all right," which made Cecilia feel that no further proof
could be needed of her respectability. Then Bob came hurrying to meet
her.
"I was just beginning to get uneasy about you," he said. "Did you have
any trouble?"
"My taxi broke down," Cecilia answered. "But this lady and gentleman
most kindly gave me a seat, and saved me ever so much trouble. I'll tell
you my story presently."
Bob turned, saluting.
"Thanks, awfully," he said. "I wasn't too happy at letting my little
sister run about alone in a strange city, but it couldn't be helped."
"I'm very glad we were there," said the big man. "Now, can you tell me
where luggage should go? My son and a friend are somewhere on the pier,
I suppose, but it doesn't seem as though finding them would be an easy
matter."
The pier, indeed, resembled a hive in which the bees have broken loose.
Beside it lay the huge bulk of the transport, towering high above all
the dock buildings near. Already she swarmed with Australian soldiers,
and a steady stream was still passing aboard by the overhead gangway to
the blare and crash of a regimental march. The pier itself was crowded
with officers, with a sprinkling of women and children--most of them
looking impatient enough at being kept ashore instead of being allowed
to seek their quarters on the ship.


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