a good deal of it, and no doubt the turgid imagination of the first
Mrs. Harbottle dealt with it honestly enough. At all events, she saw
her opportunity, and the depths of her indifference to Robert bubbled
up venomously into the suit. That it was undefended was the senseless
mystery; decency ordained that he and Judy should have made a fight,
even in the hope that it would be a losing one. The reason it had to
be a losing one--the reason so immensely criticized--was that the
petitioning lady obstinately refused to bring her action against any
other set of circumstances than those to which, I have no doubt, Judy
contributed every indiscretion. It is hard to imagine Robert Harbottle
refusing her any sort of justification that the law demands short of
beating her, but her malice would accept nothing of which the account
did not go for final settlement to Judy Thynne. If her husband wanted
his liberty, he should have it, she declared, at that price and no
other. Major Harbottle did indeed deeply long for his liberty, and his
interesting friend, Mrs. Thynne, had, one can only say, the most vivid
commiseration for his bondage. Whatever chance they had of winning, to
win would be, for the end they had at heart, to lose, so they simply
abstained, as it were, from comment upon the detestable procedure which
terminated in the rule absolute. I have often wondered whether the whole
business would not have been more defensible if there had been on Judy's
part any emotional spring for the leap they made. I offer my conviction
that there was none, that she was only extravagantly affected by the
ideals of the Quarter--it is a transporting atmosphere--and held a view
of comradeship which permitted the reversal of the modern situation
filled by a blameless correspondent. Robert, of course, was tremendously
in love with her; but my theory is that she married him as the logical
outcome of her sacrifice and by no means the smallest part of it.

It was all quite unimaginable, as so many things are, but the upshot of
it brought Judy to Rawul Pindi, as I have said, where I for one thought
her mistake insignificant compared with her value. It would have
been great, her value, anywhere; in the middle of the Punjab it was
incalculable. To explain why would be to explain British India, but
I hope it will appear; and I am quite willing, remember, to take the
responsibility if it does not.

Somers Chichele, Anna's son, it is absurd to think, must