Bridget liked seeing Colin hail-fellow-well-met with them all--sharing tucker and quart-pot tea.

She wished that her socialistic friends of the old played-out civilisation could see this shrewd, practical humanitarian of the Bush.
They came very close to each other in those long days of the dream-drive.

He talked to her as he had never talked before, and as he talked rarely afterwards.

He drew aside curtains from recesses of his real nature, the existence of which she had not suspected, and, in truth, at a later time, doubted.

Then, if in broad sunlight the shy, rough exterior of the man would close suddenly over those secret chambers, when evening came, it would seem as though the camp fire illuminated them once more.
After the first time or two, he allowed her to boss the camp 'lay-out.' It was she who spread the blankets on Wombo's beds of grass tree tops and dry herbage.