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A face of rare peace and innocent poise-a wide, childlike, quivering lip, a feminine nose, narrow, sparkling eyes, and a wistful smile." Mr. Wright's impression of Giri Bala was shared by myself; spirituality enfolded her like her gently shining veil. She PRONAMED before me in the customary gesture of greeting from a householder to a monk.
There he sat, cross-legged on a pile of straw, his only covering-and incidentally his only possession-being an ocher cloth draped over his shoulders. "Truly a divine face smiled at us after we had crawled on all fours into the hut and PRONAMED at the feet of this enlightened soul, while the kerosene lantern at the entrance flickered weird, dancing shadows on the thatched walls.
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