“And why not?” asked the Colonel simply. “In what is Mrs. Powers the superior of this Indian lady?”
“Oh, I’m not snobbish, Edgar, as you probably know by this time, but——” His wife’s voice was coldly indignant.
“My dear, my dear,” the Colonel hastened to apologise, “who would suggest that you——”
“Well, I must say it is very difficult. She won’t visit. Even her church—she was educated, you know, in a convent—even her church is a kind of barrier. She rides down to the Post all alone when the priest comes. I am in despair. I’ve tried my best, you’ve tried your best. The long and the short of it is the man and his place are going to ruin.”
The Colonel remained silent. There was nothing to say. He had tried his best with Gaspard, and so far had failed.
“If he would only brace up,” sighed Augusta. “But he seems to have lost his nerve.”
“It is the last thing a man loses,” replied the Colonel gloomily.
“And there’s that boy——”
The Colonel lifted up his hand. “For God’s sake, don’t speak of the boy. He feels as you do.”
“Nonsense! He does not understand the thing at all. He is perfectly happy.”