sitting beneath _punkahs_ in offices with windows all closed, far away
in Calcutta. Or could have traversed, mentally, leagues of sea and
rehabilitated past scenes in London. It would be like talking to a
brother officer. But with the Gulab, and the hush and perfume of the
forest-clad hills, and the gentle glamour of moonlight, his senses
would smother placid intellectuality; he would be like a toper with a
bottle at his elbow mocking weak resolve.

Then the girl said something: a shy halting request that set his blood
galloping: "Sahib, it is not far to Mandhatta--four _kos_, or perhaps
it is five; would it be unpermitted to suggest that we go there, for
the moon is beautiful and the road is good."

"All right, girl!" and remembering that he had spoken in English, he
added, "It will be expedient, for you will there find shelter."

"Yes, Sahib, Guru Swami will be there, and I am known of him; and there
are places where one may rest."

"I'll tell the driver to hitch up," Barlow declared, rising.

But she laid a detaining hand upon his arm: "Sahib, the sweetest thing
in all Bootea's life was the time she rode on the horse with him.
Then, too, the moon, that is the soul of Purusha, smiled upon her.
Would it be permitted to Bootea just one more happiness, for
to-morrow--to-morrow--"

The girl turned away, and seemed busy adjusting her gold-embroidered
jacket.