It was a wonderful walk. By the end of it Roy no longer felt a lonely
atom in a strange world. He had found something better than his
Sanctuary--he had found a friend.

Looking back, long afterwards, he recognised that Sunday as the
turning-point....

Later in the evening he poured it all out to his mother in four
closely-written sheets.

But not a word about herself, or Desmond's friendly warning, which
still puzzled him. He worried over it a little before he fell asleep. It
was the very first hint--given, in all friendliness--that the mere fact
of having an Indian mother might go against you, in some people's eyes.
Not the right ones, of course; but still--in the nature of things,--he
couldn't make it out. That would come later.

At the time its only effect was to deepen his private satisfaction at
having hammered Joe Bradley; to quicken his attitude of championship
towards his mother and towards India, till ultimately the glow of his
fervent devotion fused them both into one dominant idea.




CHAPTER VII.

"He it is--the innermost one who awakens my being with his deep
hidden touches."--TAGORE.