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 alike mine. Man cannot rely on himself alone. I dare not return to town until I have found my support.’

‘What then do you suggest?’ I asked.

‘You two go on to the Calcutta house. I would wander alone for a time. I seem to see glimpses of the shore. If I allow it out of my sight now, I may lose it for ever.’

As soon as we were by ourselves, Damini said to me: ‘That will never do! If he wanders about alone, who is to look after him? Don’t you remember in what plight he came back when he last went wandering? ‘The very idea of it fills me with fear.’

Shall I tell the truth? This anxiety of Damini’s stung me like a hornet, leaving behind the smart of anger. Had not Satish wandered about for two whole years after Uncle Jagamohan’s death,—had that killed him? My question did not remain unuttered. Rather, some of the smart of the sting got expressed with it.

‘I know, Srivilas Babu,’ Damini replied. ‘It takes a great deal to kill a man. But why should he be allowed to suffer at all, so long as the two of us are here to prevent it?’

The two of us! Half of that meant this