"Aern't you going to your bungalow ?" asked Saila next day in an attempt to rouse Kamala from the dumps.
"No, there's nothing left to do ."
"What will you give me if I give you something ?" asked Saila.
"I have nothing to give, didi" (elder sister), said Kamala.
"Nothing at all ?"
"Nothin at all."
Saila flicked her on the cheek. "So that's how it is ! You've given all you possess to a certain person to keep, have you ? What do you call this ?" and she took a letter out of the fold of her dress.
Kamala turned pale when she saw Ramesh's hand writing on the envelope, and she half turned away.
"Now then," said Saila, "you've given a sufficient exhibition of that pride of yours. Drop it now. I know you're itching to snatch this letter from me, but I shan't give it to you at all till you ask for it nicely. We'll see how long you can keep it up."
Just then Umi burst into the room with a shout of "Auntie ! auntie !" dragging a soapbox behind her by a string.
Kamala snatched her up and bore her off, smothering her with kisses. Umi set up a howl of protest at being separated from her toy-cart, but Kamala would not be denied. She carried the child into her room, soothing her with an unceasing patter of baby-talk.
Saila followed, exclaiming, "I'm beaten ; you've won this time ! I can't keep it up. Please, Kamala ! take it. I'll never be rude to you again !"
She threw the letter down on the bed, rescued Umi from Kamala's clutches, and carried her off.
Kamala turned the envelope over and over, then opened it and began to read, but she had only glanced through the first lines when she flushed angrily and flung the letter from her. Then she mastered her first impulse of profound disgust, picked up the letter again, and read it through.
Whether she understood the whole of it or not it is impossible to say, but she felt as though she were handling some filthy thing and once more she threw the letter away. It was a proposal that she would make a home for a man who was not her husband ! Fully cognisant of all the facts, Ramesh had bided his time to fling this insult at her. If after their arrival in Ghazipur her heart had warmed towards him, did he imagine it was because he was Ramesh and not because he was-as she believed -her husband ? Ramesh had jumped at conclusions, and pity for an unfortunate outcast had prompted him to write this love-letter. How could she now-or ever-dispel the mistaken inference that she had drawn from her behavior ? Shame and disgust were destined to be her portion in life, though never since she came into the world had she sinned against a soul. She pictured "home" now as a dreadful monster ready to swallow her up, and she cast about in vain for a way of escape. Two days ago she could never have conceived that Ramesh would appear such an ogre to her.
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