tirely at sea. They had cherished the belief that the harmony of the home with the outside was perfect. Today they realize to their cost that it is too late to repair their neglect of years, and seek to harmonize them now.
What does it matter? Let those who have made the mistake learn their error by knocking against the world. Why need I bother about their plight? For the present I find it wearisome to keep Bimala soaring much longer, like a captive balloon, in regions ethereal. I had better get quite through with the matter in hand.
When Bimala rose to depart and had neared the door I remarked in my most casual manner: 'So, about the money...'
Bimala halted and faced back as she said: 'On the expiry of the month, when our personal allowances become due...'
'That, I am afraid, would be much too late.'
'When do you want it then?'
'To-morrow.'
'Tomorrow you shall have it.'
