It was so casual that it was cruel. The girl's eyes grew wider still
during the instant she fixed them upon Alicia in the effort of complete
understanding. Then her lip trembled.
"How can I care?" she cried, "how can I?" and burst into weeping. She
drew her _sari_ over her face and rocked to and fro. Her dusty bare foot
protruded from her cotton skirt. She sat huddled together, her head in
its coverings sunk between weak, shaking shoulders. Alicia considered
her for an instant as a pitiable and degraded spectacle. Then she went
over and touched her.
"You are completely worn out," she said, "and it is almost dinner time.
The ayah will bring you a hot bath, and then you will come down and have
some food quietly with me. My brother is dining out somewhere. I will go
away for a little while and then I know you will feel better. And after
dinner," she added gently, "you may come up if you like and pray again
for Mr. Lindsay. I am sure he would----"
The faintest break in her own voice warned her, and she hurried out of
the room.
It was a foolish thing and the Livingstones' old Karim Bux much deplored
it, but the Miss-sahib had forgotten to give information that the dinner
of eight commanded a fortnight ago would not take place--hence
everything was ready in its sequence for this event, with a new fashion
of stuffing quails and the first strawberries of the season from
Dinapore.
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