A
white skin is like a shirt-of-mail, it protects morally, socially, in
India."
"Ultimately, no doubt, Prince. And, of course, a dance-girl is one of
the fourth caste, practically an outcast--an 'untouchable,'" Elizabeth
commented.
Barlow knew this as a devilish arraignment of himself, for he had felt
a strong attraction. He said nothing; but he was aware of a feeling of
repulsion toward Elizabeth; her harshness, on so slight a provocation,
suggested vindictiveness--a narrow exaction.
Nana Sahib was filled with delight--his evil soul revelled in this
discord. Then and there, if he could have managed it, he would have
suggested to the Captain that he would arrange for the Gulab to meet
him--might even have her sent to his bungalow. But he had the waiting
subtlety of a tiger that crouches by a pool for hours waiting for a
kill; so, somewhat reluctantly, he let the opportunity pass. While he
considered Barlow to be an Englishman possessed of rather slow
perception, he knew that the Captain had a quixotic sense of honour,
and possibly such a proposal might destroy his influence.
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