far horizon, as if he would force his gaze beyond, into the delectable
land, the Eden out of which he had been driven. "Caviar and truffles,
and Romanee Conti, and Partagas!"

"Chicken and curry and Scotch whisky."

"Bah! You've the imagination of a he-goat."

"All right, Sahib."

"James, I owe you three hundred rupees, and I am going to add seven
hundred more. We've been fighting this old top for six years together,
and you've been a good servant and a good friend; and I'll take you
with me as far as this fortune will go, if you say the word."

"Ah, Sahib, I am much sorry. But Delhi calls, and I go. A thousand
rupees will make much business for me in the Chandney Chowk."

"Just as you say."

Presently they became purple shades in a brown world.

II

A MAN WITH A PAST

The moonless Oriental night, spangled with large and brilliant stars,
brilliant yet mellow, unlike the crisp scintillating presentment in
northern latitudes, might have served as an illustration of an
air-tight bowl, flung down relentlessly upon this part of the world.
Inside this figurative bowl it was chill, yet the air was stirless. It
was without refreshment; it became a labor and not an exhilaration to
breath it. A pall of suffocating dust rolled above and about the
Irrawaddy flotilla boat which, buffeted by the strong irregular
current, strained at its cables, now at the bow, now at the stern, not
dissimilar to the last rocking of a deserted swing. This sensation was
quite perceptible to the girl who leaned over the bow-rail, her
handkerchief pressed to her nose, and gazed interestedly at the steep
bank, up and down which the sweating coolies swarmed like Gargantuan
rats. They clawed and scrambled up and slid and shuffled down; and
always the bank threatened to slip and carry them all into the swirling
murk below. A dozen torches were stuck into the ground above the
crumbling ledge; she saw the flames as one sees a burning match cupped
in a smoker's hands, shedding light upon nothing save that which stands
immediately behind it.

She choked a little. Her eyes smarted. Her lips were slightly
cracked, and cold-cream seemed only to provide a surer resting place
for the impalpable dust. It had penetrated her clothes; it had
percolated through wool and linen and silk, intimately, until three
baths a day had become a welcome routine, providing it was possible to
obtain water. Water. Her tongue ran across her lips. Oh,