She was surprised. “That’s not bad pay, is it? For a single man?”
Pete Fletcher said, “The pay’s all right. Trouble is this place. There’s nothing to do here.”
“Do you get a cinema here ever?”
“There’s a chap supposed to come here every fortnight and show films in the Shire Hall—that building over there.” She saw a low, barn-like wooden structure. “He hasn’t been for a month, but he’s coming next week, Mr. Carter says.”
“What about dances?” Jean asked.
There was a cynical laugh. “They try it sometimes, but it’s a crook place for a dance. Not enough girls.”
Pete Fetcher said, “There’s about fifty of us stockmen come into Willstown, Miss Paget, and there’s two unmarried girls to dance with, Doris Nash and Susie Anderson. That’s between the age of seventeen and twenty-two, say. Not coun
