Barlow knew several such. Of course of drifters he knew also, the
white inland beach-combers--men who had come out to India to fill
subordinate positions in the telegraph, or the railroad, or mills; and,
as they sloughed off European caste, and possessed of the eternal
longing for woman companionship, had married natives. Barlow shuddered
at mentally rehearsed visions of the degradation. Thus everything
logical was on that side of the ledger--all against the Gulab. On the
other side was the fierce compelling fascination that the girl held for
him.
Yes, at Mandhatta they would both sacrifice to the gods. Curiously
Elizabeth stood in the computation a cipher; probably he would marry
her, but the escapement from disaster, from wreck, would not be because
of any moral sustaining from her, any invisible thread of love binding
him to the daughter of the Resident. He knew that until he parted from
Bootea at Mandhatta his soul would be torn by a strife that was
foolish, contemptible, that should never have originated.
CHAPTER XXVII
And next day when Barlow, sitting his horse, still riding as the
Afghan, went forth, his going was somewhat like the departure of a
Nawab.
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