“No; but perhaps I can find some quiet family in Bangalore who will be absolute strangers to me and my affairs. I can see Ronnie from time to time, and send him books and papers—he will like to feel that I am near him.”
“But this is sheer madness, my dear child! You don’t know a soul in Bangalore.”
“So much the better,” I replied with significant emphasis.
“If even one of my girls was there—but Susan is at Trichinopoly and Alice at Saugor.”
“Do, do help me,” I urged, and slid down from my chair and laid my hands on her knees. “I would like to start to-morrow.”
My petition was backed up by Zora, who at this propitious moment had called to see me, and warmly approved of my project. That a woman should make the most absolute sacrifice for a man was naturally her own (the Mohammedan) point of view.
“Eva is right,” she declared. “Imagine the comfort and joy her visits will be to that poor fellow, cut off from all his friends and associates. I should think Eva could find a home in some quiet family—not perhaps in her own class—and she can steal away quietly from here, and no one need know what has become of her—only we two. I can take her the whole way to Wadi in my car; the ayah will go ahead with luggage and wait there—and so Miss Lingard will disappear.”
“Two years in some back-road bungalow in Bangalore will be a sheer sacrifice of Eva’s youth; of course she should go home to her people,” protested Mrs. Lakin, who had sacrificed so much herself.
“But I have no near relations except Ronnie,” I announced; “we are orphans. Do you know Bangalore?”
“To be sure I do, my dear. It was there I was married—in Trinity Church.”