This time she did not laugh at the simplicity of the question. "Come and see," she answered boldly. He said nothing, and she went on: "At any rate, I must go now. My people will be very anxious, and I have so much to tell them. They will envy me the privilege I have enjoyed of seeing your wonderful gardens. I shall tell them how kind you have been to a foolish wanderer." "If the gardens please you, they are always open to you," he said. She shook her head sadly. "I am afraid it is not possible. You see, I could not come alone. Propriety will forgive me this once, because it was an accident--a second time, and my reputation would be gone for ever." She held out her hand frankly. "So it must be good-by for ever!" An instant he hesitated, torn between a deep ingrained principle and desire. Then he took the small hand in his own. "It will not be good-by for ever," he said. "We shall meet again." "I should be glad. We have been quite good friends, haven't we? But you see, you will be in a garden into which I may not enter, and I in a world which for you is forbidden ground. I am afraid there is no hope." "Nevertheless, we shall meet again," he repeated. "Why are you so certain?" He smiled dreamily. "Nothing in this world happens without purpose," he answered. "So much my books and eyes have taught me. We do not drift aimlessly into each other's lives. We are borne on the breast of a strong current which flows out of the river of Fate, and whether we meet for good or evil is according to the will of God. But of one thing I am sure: it must be for good or evil." For a moment she said nothing. Her face was turned away from him, and when at last she spoke, her voice had lost something of its daring certainty. "I hope, then, our meeting is for our good," she said. "I feel that it is," he answered. He led her past the bewildered, terrified sentry on to the grey, dusty highroad. It was the first time that his feet had crossed the threshold. "I shall watch you till you are out of sight," he said. "Good-by." "Good-by--and thank you!" According to his word, he stood where she had left him, his eyes fixed immovably, like those of a bronze statue, on the slight, elastic figure, as it hurried toward the lights of the distant Station. When at last the purple mist had swallowed her from his sight, he looked up toward the heavens. Just where the mist ended and the clear sky began, the evening star rose in its first splendor and shone through the dry atmosphere, signaling to its fellows that night was come. One by one others followed. As time passed, the moon in a cloud of silver lifted herself in stately progress above the black outline of the jungle and touched with her first beams the filigree minarets of the temple. Nehal Singh bowed his head in prayer. "Oh, Lord Brahma, I thank thee!"