“If I was, it was only for her pretty face. But white though Ida may be, she’s a half-caste ... with her whimsies and her childish little tragedies. I didn’t see it so much at first, but I see it now, of course. I’d met women from Europe before I met you. But you were a revelation to me, a revelation of all the charm and artistic grace that a woman can possess.... And the exotic side in you appeals to my own exotic side.”
“I value your friendship highly. Let things remain as they are.”
“Sometimes it’s just as though I were mad, sometimes I dream ... that we’re travelling in Europe together, that we’re in Italy or Paris. Sometimes I see us sitting together over a fire, in a room of our own, you talking of art, I of the modern, social developments of our time. But, after that, I see us together ... more intimately....”
“Van Helderen!...”
“It’s no longer any use your warning me. I love you, Eva, Eva....”
“I don’t believe there’s another country where there’s so much love going about as in India! I suppose it’s the heat....”
“Don’t crush me with your sarcasm. No other woman ever made such an appeal to my whole soul and body as you do, Eva....”
She shrugged her shoulders:
“Don’t be angry, Van Helderen, but I can’t stand these commonplaces. Let us be sensible. I have a charming husband, you have a dear little wife. We’re all good, pleasant friends together.”
“You’re so cold!”