she looked on his death and the place of it, as a direct
interposition of Providence, and when she had recovered from the
shock, she took out and reread Phil's letter with the "etc., etc.,"
and the big dashes, and the little dashes, and kissed it several
times. No one knew her in Bombay; she had her husband's income,
which was a large one, and Phil was close at hand. It was wrong
and improper, of course, but she decided, as heroines do in novels,
to find her old lover, to offer him her hand and her gold, and with
him spend the rest of her life in some spot far from unsympathetic
souls. She sat for two months, alone in Watson's Hotel,
elaborating this decision, and the picture was a pretty one. Then
she set out in search of Phil Garron, Assistant on a tea plantation
with a more than usually unpronounceable name.

. . . . . . . . .

She found him. She spent a month over it,, for his plantation was
not in the Darjiling district at all, but nearer Kangra. Phil was
very little altered, and Dunmaya was very nice to her.

Now the particular sin and shame of the whole business is that
Phil, who really is not worth thinking of twice, was and is loved
by Dunmaya, and more than loved by Agnes, the whole of whose life
he seems to have spoilt.

Worst of all, Dunmaya is making a decent man of him; and he will be
ultimately saved from perdition through her training.

Which is manifestly unfair.