'I'll call Roy to come and carry your equipment out for you,' he said in curt dismissal, and walked stiffly to the table, where he picked up a telephone and punched a number on the house intercom.

Kelly suffered a rush of emotions that kept her tongue-tied as he spoke to his secretary. Embarrassment that she might have misread his intentions was uppermost. Her own reaction to him didn't bear thinking about. Shame squirmed through her. She had been so wrong about him. He was being more than fair with Grandpa. And she had said such dreadful things…

He replaced the telephone and threw her a tight, bleak look. 'He'll be right down. If you'll excuse me…'

'Wait!' she cried as he stepped towards the bathroom.

She sensed his reluctance, but he turned to face her. All the harsh lines were back-no boyish charm now. His expression was one of cold, tight reserve, and the tension emanating from him almost strangled her vocal cords.

'I'm sorry for having thought so badly of you,' she croaked.

'That's immaterial now, Miss Hanrahan. I will have the title papers delivered to your grandfather. Please don't come back here again.'

'But…' His hardline rejection of any more personal communication between them was shocking and surprisingly hurtful. 'You haven't let me thank you,' she finished limply.

'I don't need to be thanked for doing what should have been done in the first place.'

Still she struggled against his edict, driven by a tumult of feelings that she didn't stop to define. 'The physiotherapy…I could come back tomorrow and…'

'No! I don't want you here!' he said savagely, and the flicker of revulsion on his face left her with no argument. It was all too plain that he didn't want her anywhere near him.

And she knew then… knew that he had wanted to kiss her, and was appalled at himself for having felt such a desire. He would rather suffer pain than be confronted with such a desire again.

And hadn't she herself known it was madness? Even worse madness to wish it had happened! Where could it possibly lead…to get mixed up with him?

A knock on the bedroom door broke the tension between them. Roy Farley entered and Justin St John waved him towards the equipment. 'We're finished,' he said, then limped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him without a backward glance.

Roy Farley handed Kelly a cheque for her professional services. It felt wrong to take it, but she shrank from facing the questions her refusal would inevitably raise, and she had given Justin St John some treatment. Nevertheless, guilt added more entanglement to her confused emotions as she packed up to leave.

Roy Farley carried the interferential out to the car. Kelly thanked him distractedly and climbed in behind the wheel. It wasn't until she was driving away that she realised she had said nothing about the horses.

Kelly frowned over the unresolved problem, then shrugged it aside. She would tackle Justin St John about the horses another time. She had saved Grandpa from having to fight eviction. His land and home were now secured. That was the important thing! What Justin St John felt about her and what she felt about him… even the horses…they were pale considerations against what had been achieved.

Nevertheless, it was difficult to block out the mixture of emotions that Justin St John had evoked in her. He was certainly different from what she had expected. Different and… strangely compelling. She felt a distinct sense of loss at the way their meeting had ended.

But the loss was quickly counterbalanced by the surge of well-being she felt as she drove out of the pine forest and headed down the road that cut through the grazing pastures of Marian Park. This place was so much a part of her life that Kelly couldn't imagine belonging anywhere else. And now she never had to leave it. She drank in the scene around her with a heady sense of exhilaration.

The merino sheep that dotted the fields were the best in the world for their wool; descended from Saxony and Silesian strains that could be traced back to the Escurial flocks of the Spanish kings, and the Rambouillets of Louis the Sixteenth, but now bred into a unique strain that was unequalled outside of Australia.

The whole national flock-over a hundred million sheep-had their genetic make-up determined by just twenty-one parent studs, of which Marian Park was undoubtedly the best-in Kelly's opinion. After all, how could it be less than the best when it could boast ownership of Octavian Augustus the Fourth, the cream of the industry's elite rams? Henry Lloyd had been offered a quarter of a million dollars for him, but no way would Henry have ever countenanced Octavian Augustus the Fourth's leaving Marian Park.

This was home to the prize ram. Just as it was home to her and Grandpa, even if that claim could only be made in a subsidiary sense. To be part of this property in any way at all was a matter of intense pride. Marian Park was real quality-one of the great stud sheep showplaces in the world-on a par with Haddon Rig and Falkiner's.

Of course, Grandpa's flock wasn't in the same class and was never meant to be. He was in the business of breeding fat lambs for eating. Merinos crossed with Border Leicesters or Romney Marshes were good producers. Sometimes he cross-bred with Corriedales because they combined fine mutton with a high class of wool. They all had their place in the sheep industry. And, of course, Marian Park always received the best from him.

That was how it had always been. And how it would now continue to be. The O'Reillys and Hanrahans kept their agreements.

Kelly smiled as their house came into view-their home for as long as they wanted it to be. It was nothing grand like the Lloyd mansion, but it was a good solid house in the Australian colonial style: white-painted weather-board, verandas all around, and a green corrugated iron roof with the bull-nosed eaves that were becoming fashionable again.

Grandpa would never have to leave it now, and Kelly felt a thrill of triumph at what she had achieved.

She zoomed through the gateway and didn't bother to drive down to the shed to put her car away. That could wait until later. She was eager to tell Grandpa the good news.

She pulled up beside Judge Moffat's car, raced up the front steps and burst into the kitchen where the two old men were still sitting over their dinner. 'Guess what I've done?' she cried, beaming her exhilaration at them.

Both men appeared too sunk in gloom to lift anything but glum faces to her. Although Kelly would have relished drawing out the news for its maximum impact, the need to inject some cheerful optimism had top priority. She related her confrontation with Justin St John and its happy outcome in as few words as possible, and had the pleasure of seeing ten years lift from her grandfather's face.

His surprise and relief gradually settled into a righteous satisfaction. His eyes sparked with new life, his sunken cheeks puffed out, his jawline firmed, and his shoulders lifted. He was no longer the impressive figure of a man he had once been, he had grown thin and wiry with age, and was almost bald, but the old strength of character rose out of the lines in his face and Kelly silently rejoiced in his rejuvenation.

'At least he's seen one of his mistakes!' Michael O'Reilly declared with ringing satisfaction.

'He actually said he would hand the title deeds over?' Judge Moffat questioned sharply, wary of accepting what Kelly had told them at face value.

He was a big man in his late sixties, florid of face and with a distinguished thatch of snow-white hair. His light blue eyes narrowed in speculative thought at Kelly's insistence that Justin St John had given her his solemn assurance.