And no man living knew the secret. The three women and the child
were safe from immediate intrusion!
Those three women and that child were not so exceptionally placed
for India, of that date. Two of the women had seen their husbands
slain that afternoon, before their eyes. They were mother and daughter
and grandson; and the fourth was an English nurse, red-cheeked still
from the kiss of English Channel breezes.
"If only Bill were here!" the nurse wailed. "I know he'd find a
way out. There wasn't never nothing nowhere that beat Bill. Bill
wouldn't ha' left us! Bill'd ha' took us out o' here, an' saved
our lives. Bill--snnff, snnff--Bill wouldn't ha'--snnff, snnff--
shoved us in a rat-hole and took hisself off!"
She had not yet lost her English point of view. She still believed
that the strong right arm of an English lover could play ducks and
drakes with Destiny. One-half of the world, at least, still swears
that she was wrong, and her mistress and the other woman thought her
despicable, ridiculous, unenlightened. It was a hardship to them,
to be endured with dignity and patience, but none the less a hardship,
that they should be left and should have to die with this woman of
the Ranks Below to keep them company.
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