“They’ve spat at me ... with betel-juice!... They’ve spat ... at me ... with betel-juice!... They’ve spat ... at me ... with betel-juice!”
“Hush, mem-sahib!... Come along ... to the swimming-bath!”
“Wash me, Oorip!... Oorip, my hair, my eyes!... O God, I can taste it in my mouth!...”
She sobbed despairingly; the maid dragged her along.
“Oorip! First look ... look and see ... if they’re spitting ... in the swimming-bath too!”
The maid went in, shivering:
“There’s nothing there, mem-sahib.”
“Quick then, Oorip, bathe me, wash me.”
She flung off the kimono; her beautiful body became visible in the light of the lamp, as though soiled with dirty blood.
“Oorip, wash me.... No, don’t go for soap: water will do!... Don’t leave me alone! Oorip, wash me here, can’t you?... Burn the kimono! Oorip!”