"It's refining," I insisted. "It teaches. I'm learning to be a Sannyasin."
Eight other cards were down, and I engrossed myself with them.
"Is a Sannyasin rather dull?"
"In the Bhagavad-gita," I answered, "he is to be known as a Sannyasin who does not hate and does not love anything."
"How are you progressing?" I felt her troubling eyes full upon me, and I suspected there was mockery in their depths.
"Oh, well, fairishly—but of course I haven't studied as faithfully as I might."
"I should think you couldn't afford to be negligent."
I played up the four of spades and put a king of hearts in the space thus happily secured.
"I have read," I answered absently, "that a benevolent man should allow himself a few faults to keep his friends in countenance. I mustn't be everything perfect, you know."
"Don't restrain yourself in the least on my account."