We must have seen Simla at the most ideal time in the year, or people must become blasé and blinded to its intoxicating beauty, thanks to tennis tournaments and Government House receptions and the whole stupid Social mill.
Not even the beauties of Kashmir have dimmed the memory of Simla for me; but I would not go there again, and in the season, for anything that could be offered to me.
All beauty is sacred, and I guard jealously my sacred memory of the place, known to so many merely as a byword for folly and flirtation.
Some strange and curious experiences came to me there, both in automatic writing and other ways; but these are of too private a nature for publication.
And so, with the beauty of Simla and the romance of Kashmir as jewels in my memory, I must end my second visit to India.
It is said that pleasant as well as painful experiences are apt to run in threes. I trust this may be the case. If so, it will mean that once again I shall tread upon Indian soil.
CHAPTER XIV
A FAMILY PORTRAIT AND PSYCHIC PHOTOGRAPHY
In the very heart of Warwickshire there is a beautiful old "half timber" hall, approached by a noble avenue of elms. The hall has come down from father to son, in the direct line, for nearly six hundred years, as the dates upon the front of the house testify.