“Oh, nonsense,” he said gruffly. The least trace of sentiment frightened him.
“I’m glad I’ve helped,” she went on. “It’s a privilege to have friends like you and John McGregor, who don’t imagine they’re in love when you share their confidences! Good night. I don’t believe you’re going to your doom. I think I’d know it if you were.”
“Doom? There isn’t any! There’s only a reshuffling of the cards,” said Ommony. “Good night.”
[7] Coachman.
[8] Ragyabas are the lowest dregs of Tibetan society, who live on the outskirts of towns and dispose of the dead. When used, as in this case, as an adjective, the word has significance too horrible to be translated. The man was, of course, not a ragyaba.
[9] Referring of course, to the Tibetan custom of throwing out the dead to be devoured by dogs.
[10] Yama (pronounced yum) is the name of the god, in the Hindu pantheon, who judges the souls of the dead.
We live in the eternal Now, and it is Now that we create our destiny. It follows, that to grieve over, the past is useless and to make plans for the future is a waste of time. There is only one ambition that is good, and that is: so to live Now that none may weary of life’s emptiness and none may have to do the task we leave undone.