"And you don't think one ought to expect to be happy and have things go smoothly?"
"Well, they won't always, you know, whether you expect it or not; but the job remains, so it's just as well to make up your mind to it."
"I suppose," Jan said thoughtfully, "that's a religion."
"It pans out as well as most," said Peter.
The days that had gone so slowly went quickly enough now. Jan had much to arrange and no word came from Hugo. She succeeded in getting the monthly bills from the cook, and paid them, and very timidly she asked Peter if she might pay the wages for the time his servants had waited upon them; but Peter was so huffy and cross she never dared to mention it again.
The night before they all sailed Peter dined with her, and, after dinner, took her for one last drive over Malabar Hill. The moon was full, and when they reached Ridge Road he stopped the car and they got out and stood on the cliff, looking over the city just as they had done on her first evening in Bombay.
Some scented tree was in bloom and the air was full of its soft fragrance.
For some minutes they stood in silence, then Jan broke it by asking: "Mr. Ledgard, could Hugo take the children from me?"
"He could, of course, legally—but I don't for a minute imagine he will, for he couldn't keep them. What about his people? Will they want to interfere?"
"I don't think so; from the little he told us they are not very well off. They live in Guernsey. His father was something in salt, I think, out