In the chorus the words were distinguishable, borne in the robust
accents of Captain Sand--
"_Us ki ho tarif,
Us ki ho tarif!_"
The strange words, limping on the familiar air, made a barbarous jangle,
a discordance of a special intolerable sort.
Lindsay wondered, with a poignancy of pity, whether the coolie woman
were singing too, and found something like relief in the questionable
reflection that if she wasn't, in view of the rupee, she ought to be.
"Glory to His name!" "Glory to His name!"
His "Good evening!" when the meeting was over was a cheerful, general
salutation, and the familiarity of the sight of him was plain in the
response he got, equally general and equally cheerful. Lieutenant Da
Cruz's smile was even further significant, if he had thought of
interpreting it, and there was overt amiability in the manner in which
Ensign Sand put her hymn-books together and packed everybody, including
her husband, whose arm she took, out of the way.
"Wait for me," Laura said, to whom a Eurasian beggar made elaborate
appeal, as they moved off.
"I guess you've got company to see you home," Mrs. Sand called put, and
they did not wait. As Lindsay came closer, the East Indian paused in his
tale of the unburied wife for whom he could not afford a coffin, and
slipped away.
Pages:
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151