On finding a visitor in the room she became covered with
confusion.
"Oh," she said, speaking in Hindustani. "Why did you not tell me
there was someone here?"
Adderley's reply was characteristically brutal.
"Get out," he said. "You fool."
I turned to go, for I was conscious of an intense desire to
attack my host. But:
"Don't go, Knox, don't go!" he cried. "I am sorry, I am damned
sorry, I------"
He paused, and looked at me in a queer sort of appealing way.
The girl, her big eyes widely open, retreated again to the door,
with curious lithe steps, characteristically Oriental. The door
regained, she paused for a moment and extended one small hand in
Adderley's direction.
"I hate you," she said slowly, "hate you! Hate you!"
She went out, quietly closing the door behind her. Adderley
turned to me with an embarrassed laugh.
"I know you think I am a brute and an outsider," he said, "and
perhaps I am. Everybody says I am, so I suppose there must be
something in it. But if ever a man paid for his mistakes I have
paid for mine, Knox. Good God, I haven't a friend in the world."
"You probably don't deserve one," I retorted.
"I know I don't, and that's the tragedy of it," he replied.
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