“So golden and so pure. To think that the English dare to defile it with factory smoke!”
“That is on a piece with all we do there.”
“How vulgar, how fussy, how common the conquerors look beside the conquered! Go into a bank, a counting-house, a police-station, and see the calm, stately, proud, reposeful natives in their flowing robes, bullied and sworn at by some smug, sandy-haired, snub-nosed official in a checked suit and a pot hat! One wishes for a second and successful mutiny.”
“It must be admitted we are neither pliant nor picturesque. The Russians, when they succeed us, will at least ‘compose’ better. In what part of India were you?”
She told him, adding, “I have left with extreme regret.”
“You were in the Framlingham’s Presidency; did you know them?”
“I was on a visit to them.”
“If she would only say who she is!” thought Ronald, as a gust of wind blew them apart and sent the snow spray into their faces; he felt sure that she belonged to his world and that she was married; she had a composure of tone and manner which made her seem much older than her features looked. He was lost in admiration of the beauty of her feet as the wind lifted her skirts, or as she lifted herself over the ditches in a spring as easy as the dog’s.
“You enjoy this rough walk,” he said shortly to her.
“I think I do,” she answered. “But I should enjoy it more if I were sure I could telegraph from this Greater Thorpe.”