Save
that it cast no shadow, the 'rickshaw was in every respect as real to look
upon as one of wood and iron. More than once, indeed, I have had to check
myself from warning some hard-riding friend against cantering over it. More
than once I have walked down the Mall deep in conversation with Mrs.
Wessington to the unspeakable amazement of the passers-by.
Before I had been out and about a week I learned that the "fit" theory had
been discarded in favor of insanity. However, I made no change in my mode of
life. I called, rode, and dined out as freely as ever. I had a passion for the
society of my kind which I had never felt before; I hungered to be among the
realities of life; and at the same time I felt vaguely unhappy when I had been
separated too long from my ghostly companion. It would be almost impossible to
describe my varying moods from the 15th of May up to today.
The presence of the 'rickshaw filled me by turns with horror, blind fear, a
dim sort of pleasure, and utter despair. I dared not leave Simla; and I knew
that my stay there was killing me. I knew, moreover, that it was my destiny to
die slowly and a little every day. My only anxiety was to get the penance over
as quietly as might be. Alternately I hungered for a sight of Kitty and
watched her outrageous flirtations with my successor--to speak more
accurately, my successors--with amused interest.
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