India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction
Major Norton was a very ordinary-looking man, more elderly in appearance
than his years warranted. He was bald and clean-shaved but for scraps of
side-whiskers that gave him a resemblance to the traditional
stage-lawyer of amateur theatricals, a likeness increased by his heavy
and prosy manner. It was hard to believe that he had ever been a young
subaltern, though such had once been the case, for the Indian Political
Department is recruited chiefly from officers of the Indian Army. But he
was never the gay and light-hearted individual that most junior subs.
are at the beginning of their career. Even then he had been a sober and
serious individual, favourably noted by his superiors as being earnest
and painstaking. And now he was well thought of by the Heads of his
Department; for his plodding and methodical disposition and his slavish
adherence to rules and regulations had earned him the reputation of
being an eminently "safe" man. How such a gay, laughter-loving,
coquettish and attractive woman as Violet Dering came to marry one so
entirely her opposite puzzled everyone who did not know the inner
history of a girl, one of a large family of daughters, given "her chance
in life" by being sent out to relatives in Calcutta for one season, with
a definite warning not to return home unmarried under penalty of being
turned out to face the world as a governess or hospital nurse. And
Violet liked comfort and hated work.
During dinner Wargrave found himself instinctively criticising Norton's
manner and conversation, and rapidly arrived at the conclusion that
Raymond had described him accurately. The Resident, though a very worthy
individual, was undoubtedly a bore; and Colonel Trevor, beside whom he
sat, strove in vain to appear interested in his conversation. For he had
heard his opinions on every subject on which Norton had any opinions
over and over again. As the Resident was the only other European in the
station he dined regularly at the Mess on the weekly Guest Night with
one or other of the officers. He was not popular among them, but they
considered it their duty to be victimised in turn to uphold the
regiment's reputation for hospitality; and in consequence each resigned
himself to act as his host.
After dinner, as the Resident played neither cards nor billiards, the
Colonel sat out on the verandah with him, all the while longing to be at
the bridge-table inside; and, as his guest was a strict teetotaller, he
did not like to order a drink for himself. So he tried to keep awake and
hide his yawns while listening to a prosy monologue on insects until the
Residency carriage came to take Major Norton away.
When his guest had left, the Colonel entered the anteroom heaving a sigh
of relief.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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