the dearest thing," she told him--as well he knew. "And I'm
truly fond of her. But sometimes I feel helpless. They're so hard to
come at--these gentle, inscrutable Hindu women. Talk of English reserve!
However, I'm getting quite nimble at guessing and inferring; and I
gather that your splendid old grandfather is rather pathetically
helpless with that hive of hidden womenfolk and gurus. Also that the
old lady--Mataji--is a bit of a tartar. Of course, having lost caste,
makes the poor child's home position almost impossible. Yet she flatly
refuses to go through their horrid rites of restitution. And Miss
Hammond--our lady doctor at the hospital--backs her up."

"Well played, Miss Hammond!" quoth Roy; and remembering Aruna's cheerful
letters (no word of complications), all his sympathy went out to her.
Might not he--related, yet free of grandmotherly tyranny--somehow be
able to help? Too cruel that from her happy time in England there should
spring such tragic issues. And she was not a creature made for tragedy,
but for laughter and love and 'man's delight.' Yet, in the Hindu nature
of things, this very matter of marriage was the crux of her troubles.

To the Power behind the curtain it spelt disgrace, that the eldest
grand-daughter--at the ripe age of twenty-two--should be neither wife
nor mother. It would need a very advanced suitor to overlook that
damning item. Doubtless a large dowry would be demanded by way of
compensation; and, before all, caste must be restored. While Aruna
remained obdurate, nothing could be definitely arranged; and her
grandfather had not the heart to enforce his wife's insistent demands.
But if the Indian woman's horizon be limited, her shrewdness and
intuitive knowledge are often amazing; and this formidable old
lady--skilled in the art of imposing her will on others--knew herself a
match for her husband's evasions and Aruna's flat rebellion.

She reckoned, however, without the daughter of Sir Theo Desmond, who, at
this point, took action--sudden and disconcerting.

"You see the child came regularly to my purdah parties," she explained
to Roy, who was impatient no longer, only absorbed. "Sometimes I had her
alone for reading and music; and it was heart-breaking to see her
wilting away before my eyes. So, at last, in desperation, I broke
loose--as Vinx politely puts it--and asked searching questions,
regardless of etiquette. After all, the poor lamb has no mother. And I
never disobey an impul