I give it to the gardener.

All letters are sent to his Excellency." "When ?" "Perhaps this week, perhaps next." "I see," said Thresk.

He stood for a moment or two with his eyes upon the window.

Then he moved abruptly.
"We go back to Bombay to-morrow afternoon." "The Sahib will see Chitipur to-morrow.

There are beautiful palaces on the lake." Thresk laughed, but the laugh was short and bitter.
"Oh yes, we'll do the whole thing in style to-morrow." He had the tone of a man who has caught himself out in some childish act of folly.