“ Whom can you depend on, in this world,” he was saying. “Look at these Australians—they’re awfully nice, but they’ve got no inside to them. They’re hollow. How are you going to built on such hollow stalks. They may well call them corn-stalks. They’re marvellous and manly and independent and all that, outside. But inside, they are not. When they’re quite alone, they don’t exist.”
“ Yet many of them have been alone a long time, in the bush,” said Kangaroo, watching his visitor with slow, dumb, unchanging eyes.
“ Alone, what sort of alone. Physically alone. And they’ve just gone hollow. They’re never alone in spirit: quite, quite alone in spirit. And the people who have are the only people you can depend on.”
“ Where shall I find them?”
“ Not here. It seems to me, least
