They both laughed. “I’m a doctor,” he said. “Snakes don’t dare bite me.” They sat down side by side in the entrance, and slipped on their evening shoes. “Please may I ask you a question now? Why do you come to India at this time of year, just as the cold weather is ending?”
“I intended to start earlier, but there was an unavoidable delay.”
“It will soon be so unhealthy for you! And why ever do you come to Chandrapore?”
“To visit my son. He is the City Magistrate here.”
“Oh no, excuse me, that is quite impossible. Our City Magistrate’s name is Mr. Heaslop. I know him intimately.”
“He’s my son all the same,” she said, smiling.
“Yes, now I see, and your first husband died.”
“Then we are in the same box,” he said cryptically. “Then is the City Magistrate the entire of your family now?”
“No, there are the younger ones—Ralph and Stella in England.”
“And the gentleman here, is he Ralph and Stella’s half-brother?”
“Mrs. Moore, this is all extremely strange, because like yourself I have also two sons and a daughter. Is not this the same box with a vengeance?”
“What are their names? Not also Ronny, Ralph, and Stella, surely?”
The suggestion delighted him. “No, indeed. How funny it sounds! Their names are quite different and will surprise you. Listen, please. I am about to tell you my children’s names. The first is called Ahmed, the second is called Karim, the third—she is the eldest—Jamila. Three children are enough. Do not you agree with me?”
They were both silent for a little, thinking of their respective families. She sighed and rose to go.
“Would you care to see over the Minto Hospital one morning?” he enquired. “I have nothing else to offer at Chandrapore.”
“Thank you, I have seen it already, or I should have liked to come with you very much.”
His voice altered. “Ah! A very charming lady.”
“She was certainly intending to be kind, but I did not find her exactly charming.”
He burst out with: “She has just taken my tonga without my permission—do you call that being charming?—and Major Callendar interrupts me night after night from where I am dining with my friends and I go at once, breaking up a most pleasant entertainment, and he is not there and not even a message. Is this charming, pray? But what does it matter? I can do nothing and he knows it. I am just a subordinate, my time is of no value, the verandah is good enough for an Indian, yes, yes, let him stand, and Mrs. Callendar takes my carriage and cuts me dead . . .”