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Updated: May 29, 2025
When they turned to those who sat in the brake they were calmly meditative; they were the eyes of a child, modest; but with the unabashed confidence of youth. Elizabeth, perhaps unreasonably, for the three of them sat so close together in the brake, fancied that the Gulab's gaze constantly picked out the handsome Captain Barlow.
Then he staggered to his feet and looked wonderingly at the form of the Bagree behind who lay sprawled on the road, a great red splash across the white jacket on his breast. In the Gulab's hand was still clutched the dagger she had drawn from her girdle and driven home to save the sahib who had sat like a god in her heart.
It had hurried the Gulab's mind, too, for at another turn where the road slid into the valley, bringing to their nostrils the soft perfume of kush-kush grass and the savour of jamun that grew luxuriantly on the banks of the Narbudda, the Gulab asked: "The Sahib will marry the young Memsahib who is at the city of the Peshwa?" Barlow was startled.
"Sahib," she answered, "do not ask just go, because " "Yes, girl, why?" Her small fingers clutched the sleeve of the coat he wore it was of hunting cloth, red-and-green: "Others are dead yonder, and evil is in the hearts of those that live. Go, Sahib please go." Barlow's mind was racing fast, in more materialistic grooves than the Gulab's.
"Elizabeth! you do not know what you are saying what the inference would be." "Ask Captain Barlow if he doesn't know all about the Gulab's movements." The Resident pushed irritably some papers on his desk, and turning in his chair, asked, "Can you explain this, Captain what it is all about?" There were ripples of low temperature chilling the base of Barlow's skull.
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