younger woman was then adjusting the pitcher in arms still unused to carrying water, and she had brought down her hand from the veil. The wind blew it away and revealed the face. Madhav raised his brows in surprise. Mathur said, "There, you know her."
"Yes."
"You know her and I do not? I have spent my life here and you are only a newcomer. Well, if you know her, who is she?"
"My sister-in-law."
"Your sister-in-law? Rajmohan's wife!"
"Yes."
"Rajmohan's wife, and I have not seen her!"
"How can you? She never leaves her house."
"Why then has she to-day?"
"I don't know."
"What sort of a woman is she?"
"You have seen her.—Very handsome."
"Oh a thought-reader indeed! I am not asking that. Is she a good woman?"
"What do you mean by a 'good woman'?"
Mathur. "Oh the college has done for you! It's impossible to talk with people who have once gone there and recited the jargon of the red-faced sahibs. What I mean is—has she—"
The stern frown of Madhav cut short the coarse speech forming on Mathur's lips.
Madhav said haughtily, "You need not be so outspoken. You have no business to prattle about a respectable woman passing along the road."
Mathur replied, "Did I not say that a
