She was having dinner, and quite a good one, in the front part of the living-room in Jessore’s dak bungalow.  This room can be divided into two by means of a curtain drawn across, and you can listen, in fact you are obliged to listen, if there is another party ensconced behind, either to the furtive love-whispers of those who should not be there, or the frank abuse of each other of the bona fide couple suffering from intense heat and long years of matrimony.

Leonie spoke over her shoulder in the direction of the bedroom, where the bearer was arranging the mosquito net, her toilet things, and her new-bought dainty night attire.

It you are the right type or caste everything always goes smoothly for you in India; if you are not it most emphatically does not; so she had not given a thought to the extraordinary ease with which her wishes seemed to be carried out, in fact forestalled.

“It is the same serang who took the mem-sahib when she went on the shikar and killed the man-eating tiger.  The two coolies to carry the mem-sahib’s luggage have been hired, and the boat will be moored to-morrow night!”

“To-morrow night,” said Leonie, the light from the adjoining room throwing up her white face against the shadows of the quickly falling night.  “But it took us two nights to get there last time.”

“We are going a shorter way, mem-sahib.  The launch will be moored in a big creek on the front of the island at which the mem-sahib landed last time.  A small boat will take us through the very narrow creek, which encircles the island, to the other side near which the temple stands.  There will not be much walking for the mem-sahib, she can proceed immediately to the temple in time to see the sunrise, or pass the night in a suapattah——­”

“Oh! never that!” said Leonie most decidedly, thinking of her last experience.

“But this hut is clean, mem-sahib!”

Leonie turned right round in her chair.

“How do you know that the last hut was not?”

“All huts are dirty, mem-sahib.”

There was not a sign of confusion on the calm well-bred face, and he stood like a statue as Leonie, unconsciously striving for light in the darkness, continued her questioning.

“How did you know I wanted to go to the same place—­to the temple, I mean?”

“I did not know, the mem-sahib told the chauffeur!”

At the last word Leonie lifted her head, and her eyes rested intently upon the handsome face in the doorway between the two rooms.

“No!  I did not!”

“The great heat of the day doubtless caused the mem-sahib to forget the order she gave to her servant.”

Never argue with a native of India, because educated or not he will invariably, and with the utmost courtesy, make you feel at the end of the argument that, if not a born, you are at least an excellent temporary liar.