The Kipling Reader: Selections from the Books of Rudyard KiplingKipling, Rudyard
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The Kipling Reader: Selections from the Books of Rudyard Kipling
Kipling, Rudyard
Animals -- Fiction; English poetry; India -- Social life and customs -- Literary collections; Readers; Short stories, English
Then the talk stopped with an almost audible jar. Still no Mrs. Jim.
'That reminds me I owe you fifty rupees for the condensed milk. I
thought perhaps you'd be coming here when you were transferred to the
Khanda district, and I could pay you then; but you didn't.'
'I passed within five miles of the camp. It was in the middle of a
march, you see, and the carts were breaking down every few minutes,
and I couldn't get 'em over the ground till ten o'clock that night.
But I wanted to come awfully. You knew I did, didn't you?'
'I--believe--I--did,' said William, facing him with level eyes. She
was no longer white.
'Did you understand?'
'Why you didn't ride in? Of course I did,'
'Why?'
'Because you couldn't of course. I knew that.'
'Did you care?'
'If you had come in--but I knew you wouldn't--but if you _had_, I
should have cared a great deal. You know I should.'
'Thank God I didn't! Oh, but I wanted to! I couldn't trust myself to
ride in front of the carts, because I kept edging 'em over here,
don't you know?'
'I knew you wouldn't,' said William, contentedly, 'Here's your
fifty.'
Scott bent forward and kissed the hand that held the greasy notes.
Its fellow patted him awkwardly but very tenderly on the head.
'And _you_ knew, too, didn't you?' said William, in a new voice.
'No, on my honour, I didn't. I hadn't the--the cheek to expect
anything of the kind, except... I say, were you out riding anywhere
the day I passed by to Khanda?'
William nodded, and smiled after the manner of an angel surprised
in a good deed.
'Then it was just a speck I saw of your habit in the--'
'Palm-grove on the Southern cart-road. I saw your helmet when you
came up from the nullah by the temple--just enough to be sure that
you were all right. D'you care?'
This time Scott did not kiss her hand, for they were in the dusk of
the dining-tent, and, because William's knees were trembling under
her, she had to sit down in the nearest chair, where she wept long
and happily, her head on her arms; and when Scott imagined that it
would be well to comfort her, she needed nothing of the kind; she ran
to her own tent; and Scott went out into the world, and smiled upon
it largely and idiotically. But when Faiz Ullah brought him a drink,
he found it necessary to support one hand with the other, or the good
whisky and soda would have been spilled abroad. There are fevers and
fevers.
But it was worse--much worse--the strained, eye-shirking talk at
dinner till the servants had withdrawn, and worst of all when Mrs.
Jim, who had been on the edge of weeping from the soup down, kissed
Scott and William, and they drank one whole bottle of champagne, hot,
because there was no ice, and Scott and William sat outside the tent
in the starlight till Mrs. Jim drove them in for fear of more fever.
Apropos of these things and some others William said: 'Being engaged
is abominable, because, you see, one has no official position. We
must be thankful that we've lots of things to do.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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