And who shall break through those strange, intangible, impenetrable walls of unshared experience?
Jan swallowed her tears and said cheerfully: "Well, it's all going to be different now. You
needn't worry about anything any more. If Hugo has left no money we'll manage without. Mr. Davidson will let me have what I want ... but we must be careful, because of the children."
"And you'll try not to mind living in Peter's flat?" Fay said, rubbing her head against Jan's shoulder. "It's India, you know, and men are very kind out here—much friendlier than they are at home."
"So it seems."
"You needn't think there's anything wrong, Jan. Peter isn't in love with me now."
"Was he ever in love with you?"
"Oh, yes, a bit, once; when he first came to Dariawarpur ... lots of them were then. I really was very pretty, and I had quite a little court ... but when the bad times came and people began to look shy at Hugo—everybody was nice to me always—then Peter seemed different. There was no more philandering, he was just ... Oh, Jan, he was just such a daylight person, and might have been Daddie. I should have died without him."
"Fay, tell me—I'll never ask again—was Hugo unkind to you?"
"No, Jan, truly not unkind. He shut me away from the greater part of his life ... and there were other people ... not ladies"—Fay felt the shoulder she leant against stiffen—"but I didn't know that for quite a long time ... and he wasn't ever surly or cross or grudging. He always wanted me to have everything very nice, and I really believe he always hoped the