his friends by name, shouting at the top of his voice, but there was no response.
Finding his efforts fruitless Ramesh sat down again. The girl's face was now buried in her hands and she was trying to keep back the tears, but her bosom was rising and falling. Some instinct told him that mere words of consolation would be useless and he sat close up to her and stroked her bowed head and neck very gently. She could no longer restrain her tears and her grief burst forth in a torrent of inarticulate utterance. Tears flowed from Ramesh's eyes in sympathy.
By the time they had cried their hearts out the moon had set. Through the darkness the dreary waste showed like a baleful dream and the white wilderness of sand was ghost-like in the gloom. Here and there the river glistened in the faint starlight like the dark glossy scales of some huge snake.
Ramesh took the girl's hands—tender little hands chilled by fear—in his own and drew her gently towards him. She offered no resistance, fear having deprived her of all instincts except the desire for human companionship. In the unplumbed darkness she found the refuge that she longed for on the palpitating warmth of Ramesh's breast. It was no time for bash fulness and she nestled confidently into the embrace of his enfolding arms.
The morning star set and over the grey expanse of the river the eastern sky grew pale, then reddened. Ramesh lay in a deep sleep on the sand, while the young bride lay buried in slumber beside him with her head pillowed on his arm. The morning sun fell lightly on their eyes, and both started up out of sleep. For a moment they stared around them in amazement, then suddenly they realised that they were castaways and that home was a long way off.
