Kitty was angry and a little hurt: so I yielded from
fear of provoking further misunderstanding, and we set out together toward
Chota Simla. We walked a greater part of the way, and, according to our
custom, cantered from a mile or so below the Convent to the stretch of level
road by the Sanjowlie Reservoir. The wretched horses appeared to fly, and my
heart beat quicker and quicker as we neared the crest of the ascent. My mind
had been full of Mrs. Wessington all the afternoon; and every inch of the
Jakko road bore witness to our oldtime walks and talks. The bowlders were full
of it; the pines sang it aloud overhead; the rain-fed torrents giggled and
chuckled unseen over the shameful story; and the wind in my ears chanted the
iniquity aloud.
As a fitting climax, in the middle of the level men call the Ladies' Mile the
Horror was awaiting me. No other 'rickshaw was in sight--only the four black
and white jhampanies, the yellow-paneled carriage, and the golden head of the
woman within--all apparently just as I had left them eight months and one
fortnight ago! For an instant I fancied that Kitty must see what I saw--we
were so marvelously sympathetic in all things. Her next words undeceived me--
"Not a soul in sight! Come along, Jack, and I'll race you to the Reservoir
buildings!" Her wiry little Arab was off like a bird, my Waler following close
behind, and in this order we dashed under the cliffs.
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