"It can only be done through Christ," responded Ananda with the enthusiasm of the convert. "Christianity will develop all the germs that lie fallow in Hinduism and will throw light in the dark places. Why is the west to monopolise a revelation that was originally given to the east? Why is the west to appropriate to itself the emancipation and promises made by that revelation? We have a right to claim Christ for ourselves," he concluded. "I for one make that claim and no one shall deny me!" Again there was silence. Then Bopaul, without any outward sign of excitement, remarked: "Haste is an evil counsellor. You are asking for trouble and you will get it. Tell me, have you had a decent lodging or meal since you have been under your father's roof?" Ananda calmed down under the material inquiry after his bodily welfare, and he replied in a subdued voice: "No, and I am not likely to get one as far as I can see unless, as I said, I accept it at the hands of the sweeper." "How do you exist?" "I have some biscuits and I buy a draught of water from the caste waterman in the town. Mr. Alderbury very kindly brought me some food when he came to see me." "I can't bring you any food I am sorry to say. My mother would consider it an unfriendly act towards your parents. How is your money lasting?" "It is nearly finished." "And then?" "I haven't thought about it," replied Ananda, a troubled expression overshadowing his face. "I can lend you a little. I brought it to-day, a ten rupee note. It is all I have that I need not account for. I can get plenty from my father, but he takes good care to inform himself of how and where it goes. The note is in this envelope. Don't let my sister see it; she might tell my mother. Just slip it into your pocket as quickly as you can." He held out his hand to Mayita. "Come, little one, it is time we went home." At the entrance to the compound Bopaul stopped. "Take my advice and go to Mr. Alderbury," he said suddenly. "Not without my wife." "She will never join you." "That remains to be proved," replied Ananda unconvinced. "And remember that as a 'vert you have no conjugal rights," to which remark the other did not reply. Dorama still furtively watching saw Ananda return slowly and enter the mean little yard into which his still meaner room opened. The smell of the curry prepared for the midday meal of the household met her nostrils. "How does he continue to live and look so strong and handsome? He refuses to eat the food sent by the sweeper. Ah! it should be given by my hand, the hand of his wife. It is my right. Husband! come to me! In your need, your hunger, cannot you hear the voice of your wife calling!" CHAPTER XVI