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Kipling, Rudyard, 1865-1936

"From Mine Own People"

You can try."
"I am going to."
"For your own credit and for the sake of money, of course?"
"No. For the sake of writing the story. On my honor that will be all."
"Even then there is no chance. You cannot play with the Gods. It is a very
pretty story now. As they say, Let it go on that--I mean at that. Be quick;
he will not last long."
"How do you mean?"
"What I say. He has never, so far, thought about a woman."
"Hasn't he though!" I remembered some of Charlie's confidences.
"I mean no woman has thought about him. When that comes; bushogya--all up' I
know. There are millions of women here. Housemaids, for instance."
I winced at the thought of my story being ruined by a housemaid.
And yet nothing was more probable.
Grish Chunder grinned.
"Yes--also pretty girls--cousins of his house, and perhaps not of his house.
One kiss that he gives back again and remembers will cure all this nonsense.
or else"--
"Or else what? Remember he does not know that he knows."
"I know that. Or else, if nothing happens he will become immersed in the trade
and the financial speculations like the rest. It must be so. You can see that
it must be so. But the woman will come first, I think."
There was a rap at the door, and Charlie charged in impetuously.


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