“And where,” he asked, “are my rivals?” “Deserters,” she answered, laughing. But his gloom appeared to be occasioned by remorse, rather than sorrow. She thought then that she had shaken off the man of the bulging blue eyes forever, but that night she found he followed her into her dreams. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. This time they would call it murder. It gave her great satisfaction to hear that Madame Chamberlain had spent a night in the county jail, even if the nocturnal activities picked right up again after two weeks. Her sense of humour could not wholly resist his abnormal gravity. She had imagined she had drowned them altogether. ToC Mrs. The Roof and the Window.
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