They could not as yet hear of John, or his money, or anything about him; but Fred would see into it when he got better.

They were at a part of Melbourne called Canvas Town, and she, Sibylla, was sick of it, and Fred drank heaps of brandy.

If it were all land between her and home, she should set off at once on foot, and toil her way back again.

She _wished_ she had never come! Everything she cared for, except Fred, seemed to be left behind in England.
Such was her letter.

Fred's was gloomy also, in a different way.