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 I could not trust myself to speak for a time,—I was so overcome. Was this, then, the last cruel trick which Fate had held in reserve?

‘Will the Swami take you back?’ I asked at length.

‘Gladly!’

Damini understood men. Sect-mongers rejoice more in capturing adherents than in comprehending truths. Damini was quite right. There would be no dearth of room for her at Lilananda’s, but

‘Damini,’ I said, just at this juncture. ‘There is another way. If you promise not to be angry, I will mention it.’

‘Tell me,’ said Damini.

‘If it is at all possible for you to think of marrying a creature, such as I am’

‘What are you saying, Srivilas Babu?’ interrupted Damini. ‘Are you mad?’

‘Suppose I am,’ said I. ‘One can sometimes solve insoluble problems by becoming mad. Madness is like the wishing carpet of the Arabian Nights. It can waft one over the thousand petty considerations which obstruct the everyday world.’

‘What do you call petty considerations?’

‘Such as: What will people think?—What