By the way,
what does Kurrell say to the elopement?'
'I haven't seen him,' said Mrs. Boulte. 'Good God, is that all?'
But Boulte was not listening and her sentence ended in a gulp.
The next day brought no comfort to Mrs. Boulte, for Kurrell did
not appear, and the new lift that she, in the five minutes' madness
of the previous evening, had hoped to build out of the ruins of the
old, seemed to be no nearer.
Boulte ate his breakfast, advised her to see her Arab pony fed in
the verandah, and went out. The morning wore through, and at
mid-day the tension became unendurable. Mrs. Boulte could not
cry. She had finished her crying in the night, and now she did not
want to be left alone. Perhaps the Vansuythen Woman would talk
to her; and, since talking opens the heart, perhaps there might be
some comfort to be found in her company. She was the only other
woman in the Station.
In Kashima there are no regular calling-hours. Every one can drop
in upon every one else at pleasure. Mrs. Boulte put on a big terai
hat, and walked across to the Vansuythens' house to borrow last
week's Queen. The two compounds touched, and instead of going
up the drive, she crossed through the gap in the cactus-hedge,
entering the house from the back. As she passed through the
dining-room, she heard, behind the purdah that cloaked the
drawing-room door, her husband's voice, saying
'But on my Honour! On my Soul and Honour, I tell you she doesn't
care for me.
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