His words brought home to her the fact that these bitter-tongued women whom she despised had dared to assail her—­her, the Burra Mem, the Great Lady of their little world.  Had dared to?  She could not silence them.  And what would they say of her, how their tongues would wag, if she ran away from her husband!  And they would have a right to talk scandal of her then.  The thought made her pause.

“But how could I go with you to this place in Bengal?  Where could I live?” she asked.

“You’d live with me.”

“Oh!  In your bungalow?  How could I?  And how would I get there?” she continued.  “I haven’t any money.  I don’t suppose I’ve got a ten-rupee note.  And I couldn’t ask my husband.”

“Of course not.  I would——­” He paused.  “By Jove!  I never thought of that.”  It had not occurred to him that elopements must be carried out on a cash basis.  He had forgotten that money was necessary.  And he had none.  He was heavily in debt.  The local shroffs—­the native money-lenders—­would give him no more credit when they knew that he was going away.  All that he would have would be the one month’s advance of pay—­probably not enough for Violet’s fare and expenses across India—­the Government provided his—­and certainly not enough to support them for long.  He frowned in perplexity.  Running away with another man’s wife did not seem so easy after all.

Violet was the first to recover her normal calm.

“Sit down and let us talk quietly,” she said.  “One of the servants may come in.  Or my husband—­if people are talking scandal of us.”

She touched the switch of an overhead electric fan—­the Government of India housed its Political Officer in Rohar much more luxuriously than the military ones—­and sat down under it.  Wargrave began to pace the room impatiently.

“Come, Frank, stop walking about like a tiger in a cage and let’s discuss things properly.”

With an effort he pulled himself together and took a chair near her.  The woman was the more self-possessed of the two.  The shock of suddenly finding herself up against the logical outcome of her desires had sobered her; and, faced with the prospect of an immediate flight involving the abdication of her assured social position and the surrender of a home, she was able to visualise the consequences of her actions.  The most sobering reflection was the thought that by so doing she would be casting herself to the female wolves of her world—­and she knew the extent of their mercy.  There were others of her acquaintance besides Mrs. Trevor who would howl loud with triumph over her downfall.  The thought has saved many a woman from social ruin.