She came of a race to which love is the be-all and end-all of its women-folk's existence. The Impassive Teacher had not succeeded in releasing them from its bondage. For this reason must a Burmese woman be re-born as a man before she can attain Nirvana.
Hla Byu, once established by Cyprian in his house, finally ceased to worry about any Nirvana that did not include him. Naturally quick and full of initiative, she gleaned something from the orderly regulation of his days and more from close association with the class-refinement of his habits. He was truly one of the greater Thakins and not one of that set which dines in the costume it also uses for sleeping; though, doubtless, it seemed sensible to choose one's coolest garments for the exertion of eating, thought Hla Byu, in those past days when she had been able to compare notes with other women in her position.
And, now, she was eminently suited for the post to which Ferlie relegated her: that of nurse-companion to John and Thu Daw. There was little enough for her to do but to superintend the games of her son with the Thakin's acknowledged nephew and to watch Thu Daw's latent intelligence developing daily along the lines of a European child's.
Yet, as the weeks slipped by, she did not appear to find them happy and the unguessed-at resentment, veiled under her submissive demeanour, was smouldering into a gnawing flame which hurt while it burnt. To Cyprian she had become more than a stranger, being of less account in his life than a table or chair.
The star-flowers she gathered to wear drew appreciative comments from Ferlie, which, oddly enough, angered her so that she ceased entirely from thus decorating the polished ebony of her hair. She had brought with her new lungis of soft gay silk, rejoicing in them as his gifts, but she might have gone in rags for all he remarked of her daintiness and charm. Not so immune does a man become on account of a sister's presence.
Even Thu Daw failed to sweeten the bitterness of her cup of humiliation. He would stretch out welcoming arms to Ferlie now for her to carry him away to look at pictures with John, and his Burmese mother began to feel alienated from the foreign blood in his veins. A child was of his father's nationality.
No one read her soul nor conceived the approach of the ultimate crisis.
One night Ferlie heard Cyprian call to her from the room he occupied at the far end of the long verandah. She had not begun to undress and hurried along to him immediately, carrying a hurricane lantern since scorpions sometimes lay out on the cool stone after dark.
He stood in the doorway, his face queerly expressive.
"I want you to look at this."