, that is unpleasant. But
you won't find that in me either." She gave him a smile as she lowered
her parasol to turn into the shop of Lahiri Dey, licensed to sell
European drugs, that promised, infinite possibilities of friendship; and
he, following, took pleased and careful possession of it.

An hour later, as they approached No. 3, Lal Behari's Lane, Miss Howe
looked pale, which is not surprising, since they had walked and talked
all the way. Their talk was a little strenuous too; it was as if they
had fallen upon an opportunity, and mutually, consciously, made the most
of it.

"You must have some tea immediately," Arnold said, before the battered
urns and the dusty crotons of her dwelling.

"A little whiskey and soda, I think. And you will come up, please, and
have some, too. You must."

"Thanks," he said, looking at his watch. "If I do--"

"You'll have the soda without the whiskey! All right!" she laughed, and
led the way.

"This is vicious indulgence," Arnold said of his beverage, sitting under
the inverted Japanese umbrellas. "I haven't been pitched out of a
ticca-gharry."

It is doubtful whether the indulgence was altogether in the soda, which
is, after all, ascetic in its quality, and only suitably effervescent,
like ecclesiastical humour. It may very probably be that there was no
indulgence; indeed one is convinced that the word, like so many words,
says too much. The springs of Arnold's chair were bursting through the
bottom, and there were stains on its faded chintz-arms, but it was
comfortable, and he leaned back in it, looking up at the paper
umbrellas. You know the room; I took you into it with Duff Lindsay, who
did not come there from rigidities and rituals, and who had a qualified
pleasure in it. But there were lines in the folds of the flowered window
curtains dragging half a yard upon the floor which seemed to disband
Arnold's spirit, and a twinkle in the blue bead of a bamboo screen where
the light came through that released it altogether. The shabby,
violent-coloured place encompassed him like an easy garment, and the
lady, with her feet tucked up in a sofa and a cushion under her tumbled
head, was an unembarrassing invitation to the kind of happy things he
had not said for years. They sat in the coolness of the room for half an
hour, and then, after a little pause, Hilda said suddenly,

"I am glad you saw me in _The Offence of Galilee_ on Saturday night. We
shall not play it again."

"It