I gathered that she was considerably impressed by the style and quantity of my outfit; but, on the other hand, she openly despised the bungalow.
“This too much bad bungalow,” she declared, “too old, too cheap, too far from bazaar and the club gur, and all the big mem sahibs.”
But of this drawback I had not yet had an opportunity of judging.
By the end of a week Captain Hayes-Billington had taken his departure. His wife seemed unaffectedly sorry; I think they were really attached to one another—almost like a newly-married couple.
They had one rather irritating habit: that of conversing in Hindustani. They spoke it fluently, although they assured me that they had got very rusty at home and were now talking it for practice. Occasionally I had an instinctive and disagreeable feeling that sometimes, in my very presence, they were discussing me!
CHAPTER XI
A HILL STATION
Captain Hayes-Billington’s prediction was fulfilled; a welcome “break” brought us perfect weather, and at last we were enabled to dispense with umbrellas and goloshes, and sally forth to see the place. Silliram was situated on a high plateau, and, as we emerged from a by-path and stood near a celebrated “point,” a world of absolute peace and beauty lay beneath us. The precipices which overhung the low country were heavily wooded and clothed with masses of trees, flowering creepers, orchids and a luxuriant variety of gigantic exotic ferns. The plains which stretched so far below resembled a faintly coloured map, or some delicate piece of embroidery, gradually fading away into a misty blue distance. The atmosphere after the rains was so extraordinarily crystal-clear that we could see for miles, and even trace the outlines of distant towns, forests and rivers. Overhead a few lazy clouds threw their shadows on the wonderful scene, possibly jealous of such beauty and endeavouring to obscure it.
It was no doubt owing to its lofty situation that Silliram dried up rapidly; the roads were no longer merely red mud, the cascades of running water ceased to brawl, and the all-reviving sun had apparently brought the whole population into the open air—also their wardrobes. In almost every compound one noticed long strings of male and female garments fluttering in the breeze.
After our walk to the view Mrs. Hayes-Billington and I bravely ventured into the club. Among the crowd each face we saw was that of a stranger. Apparently we were the only outsiders, everyone else seemed to be acquainted.
I took courage from my chaperon, who was evidently well used to Indian clubs and club ways, and securing seats and a table she issued an order for tea and bread and butter.